


Unexpect Side Effects

by ashion



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, M/M, Multi, Optimus Prime/Prowl - Freeform, Optimus Prime/Prowl/Jazz later chapters, mgreg, mild violence, pnp interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:37:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3185834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashion/pseuds/ashion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Megatron Rising; After the battle with Megatron, Optimus Prime had been feeling odd, his spark behaving strangely. Never could he have guessed what that beam strike could have done or what it would leave him with.</p><p>**See profile for hiatus updates**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posed on ff.net nearly 5 years ago. It went on hiatus for a long while due to moving countries and chronic health issues, but I'm back into updating it now.  
> It's gone though an update and rewrite recently to being things up to date and fix some issues I had with portions of the original chapters.
> 
> The idea for this story was originally inspired by this post in the TF Bunny Farm on LJ (point 1 on the list): community.livejournal.com/tf_bunny_farm/195061.html#cutid1  
> \----------------------  
> UNITS OF TIME  
> Nano-Klik: 0.5 second  
> Klik: 1 second  
> Cycle: 1.5 minutes  
> Groon: 1 hour  
> Solar-Cycle: 1 day  
> Deca-Cycle: 10 days  
> Orbital-Cycle: 1 month

Optimus Prime sits stiffly on the medical berth wide cyan optics staring in disbelief at the mirrored piece of metal he holds in front of him, the intensely bright light of his exposed spark reflected in its polished surface.

 

“I-I’m… but-but… I can’t be…” Optimus stammers, unable to complete a full sentence with his CPU threatening to shut down at what he sees. “I-I just came to see you because my plates felt irritated and-and my spark felt strange… how-how in the pit…”

 

Swallowing his rising irritation, Ratchet takes several deep drafts through his vents before pushing ahead. Speaking as plainly and patiently as he can manage he asks. “So who’s the lucky mech?”

 

Blinking owlishly the young Prime stares in shock at the elder mech. _Primus help me if he crashes on me_ , Ratchet grouses. Slapping a hand over his face plates and roughly dragging it down Ratchet fights to maintain his rapidly dwindling patience. “Who have you recently shared a berth with Prime? It’s that simple. There are only 3 other bots here besides myself so -”

 

“I… what? No! Primus Ratchet they’re my friends, my team mates! How could you even suggest such a thing like that?” The young Prime snaps indignantly, slamming the polished piece of metal down onto the medical berth with a loud ringing clang.

 

“Well that didn’t just appear on its own. It takes two you know.” Ratchet grumbles, jabbing a red finger at the well-established newspark sitting snuggly against the corona of the young mech’s much larger spark, a thick tendril of energy anchoring it in place. Below the spark rests the fine, barely discernable beginnings of a protoform, made up of spider webbed strings of metal and wire filaments. By reflex Optimus’ hands snap up to protect the newspark.

 

“I know that Ratchet.” Optimus growls, temper briefly flaring. “It’s just… I’ve never. I mean I haven’t even… How could this happen?” Staring down at his hands cupping over his spark the young mech struggles to keep his mind on track. Too many why’s, how’s and what if’s threatening to clog up his cortex.

 

“Honestly Prime you can tell me. I promise on my spark I won’t say anything to the others, but the sire deserves to at least know about it.” Ratchet pushes in hope of having who ever sired the newspark around might help settle Optimus down at least a little. Ratchet knows Optimus isn’t the type to just let anyone get close, so they would have to seriously mean something to him to let them get close enough to go this far.

 

Blue fists slam into the medical berth with a loud metal bang. “For the last time Ratchet. I haven’t shared with anyone! Ever!” Optimus grinds out, denta bared and optics blazing with barely repressed frustration and annoyance.

 

“Alright, alright calm down, calm down. Whatever is going on here we’ll sort it out.” Waving a hand in a gesture for calm Ratchet moves over to his equipment cupboards digging out a specialized scanner he thought he’d never use with this team. “This will tell me what’s what. For all we know being revived by the Allspark and the recent damage you copped from that Allspark powered weapon Megatron hit you with could have caused a spark split. It’s been known to happen with the type of spark trauma you’ve experience of late.” Plugging the device into a screen he discreetly pulls up the spark signature of every known Cybertronian on earth, including Decepticons, from the old achieves. “We’ll know soon enough.”

 

Optimus doesn’t like the tone Ratchet uses, but remains perfectly still. Swiping the extended wand over the rapidly pulsing tiny newspark he waits for the results. Blinking, optics comically wide, the medic looks from the screen to the pensive looking young mech and back again.

 

“No, no that can’t be right.” Ratchet mumbles to himself, swiping the wand again he receives the same results. Three more swipes don’t change the information displayed on the screen, much to the elders growing discomfort.

 

“Ratchet, what is it? Ratchet?” Optimus pleads, hands gripping tightly to the edges of the berth the elder medic’s behavior scaring him more that he’d like to admit. Hanging his head Ratchet slowly turns the screen to show Optimus the display.

 

Optimus swore his spark stopped for a few seconds as he stares at the display. Marked in red, blue and purple are listed the energies found within the newspark’s signature. His, a small portion of the Allspark and…

 

“No…No, no nonoNO! That’s-this can’t be right! No it’s wrong! It must be a mistake! It’s impossible! I can’t… I-I never… Oh, Primus…” Both layers of his chest plates abruptly snap shut as his arms wrap tightly around himself and hunching over in an aborted attempt to deny what he is carrying. Ratchet’s belated attempt at comfort as he tries to touch the younger’s shaking shoulder is roughly shaken off.

 

Turning the screen off Ratchet tries to stay level headed for at least one of them and to keep things calm. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for this kid. It’s just coming up to a deca-cycle old so that gives us a time frame to review things see how it could have happened. It ain’t that bad-“

 

“Not that bad? Not that BAD?!?! I’m carrying the sparkling of the Decepticon War Lord Megatron himself! How can it be NOT THAT FRAGGING BAD?!?!” Optimus bellows in rage, leaving Ratchet more than grateful he’d sound proofed the med bay walls. If he didn’t know better Ratchet swore by the look in the young mech’s optics that he would be pounded into the ground if he didn’t watch his words. Optimus may be a relatively quiet and calm young mech, but when set off he is something not to be trifled with, especially in the unstable state he was currently in. Backing away Ratchet waves his hands in the air in a placating gesture.

 

“I didn’t mean it that way, alright? Just, calm down, take a few deep vents and calm down. Look it’s still very early in development. You have options. I’ll dig up some files for you to read so you can decide what you want to do… I’ll understand if you don’t want to carry it, considering its code contributor, if you want I can discreetly terminate it now -“, “NO!” Before Ratchet could move Prime is off the berth, frame shaking and blue hands clasped over his chest and backing towards the med bay door.

 

“Now, Prime wait. I didn’t say I was gonna do it now! Just that it’s an option for the future, nothing has to be deci-“ Optimus is out the door before the medic gets to finish. _Great... just great… Prime’s carrying and he just flipped a logic circuit…_ _just what I need_ , Ratchet grumbles hurriedly chasing after the bolting mech.

 

“Prime! PRIME! This is ridiculous! Get your aft back here!” Ratchet yells, lumbering after the larger mech but with his superior speed and youth Optimus has already transformed and left base. Growling in rage, spark heavy with growing concern Ratchet turns to see Prowl, Bulkhead, Bumblebee and Sari staring at him in confusion.

 

“Uh, Ratchet what in the pit was that?” Bumblebee asks looking from the medic to the open entry way of the base where their leader just made a harried departure.

 

“Don’t just stand there gawking! We need to find him and fast. Get moving!” All of them stand blinking at the angered medic, not one showing any signs of moving. “Uh… why?” Bumblebee innocently asks. Yelping the yellow mini-bot reels back, hands cupping protectively around Sari when the larger medic charges up to him, optics blazing.

“Cause I said so! NOW MOVE IT!” That barked order finally sees all the bots transforming and tearing off in different directions in search of their wayward leader.

  
TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The sun has long since set, but after 5 groon of searching Bulkhead finally finds their missing Prime sitting at the edge of one of the docks around the lake, long legs dangling down into the dark water. He can tell from his rigid posture, back and shoulder ramrod straight that Prime is highly wound up and more than likely not in the best of moods.

 

As the bulky, green mech shifts to try get a better view of his leader he notices Optimus has one hand pressed flat against his chest plates, face plates blank, optics dull and unfocused staring out across the lake. It makes the large mech truly worry there may be something seriously wrong with their Prime. Ratchet had refused to tell them anymore than they needed to find Optimus and get him back to the base. Not explaining why he was so anxious or what was wrong.

 

Large fingers tapping together in a nervous twitch, Bulkhead carefully inches his way toward the seated red and blue mech. “Boss bot? Prime, you ok?” He receives no response, the mech remaining still, staring blankly out across the black water. Unease growing he taps his communicator.

 

:: _Bulkhead to Ratchet. I’ve found him_. _He looks kinda spaced out and won’t talk to me._ :: A string of creative expletives is the initial reply making the meek mech cringe.

 

:: _Right, send the coordinates and stay put! Keep an optic on him until I get there. ETA 8 cycles._ ::

 

:: _Affirmative. Bulkhead out._ :: Shutting off the signal Bulkhead nearly trips over backwards seeing Optimus suddenly looking at him, his optics and face unreadable. Shifting closer and crouching down the large green mech watched his leader carefully as he turns to look back out across the expanse of shimmering water. “Uh, Prime? Ratchet’s on his way. You ah… you need any help?” Optimus remains silent only giving the big green mech a small shake of the head in the negative.

 

The cycles seem to pass like groons to the young heavy mech as he watches and waits. He’s never seen Optimus so still, so stiff and the way he seems to be clutching at his chest makes Bulkhead wonder if he was having spark issues. It hadn’t been long since the battle where Megatron shot him in the chest, but Ratchet had said the damage was minimal enough to heal on its own. _Could Ratchet have been wrong? Did he miss something?_ Bulkhead frets.

 

He was torn between getting closer to the Prime, offering comfort and keeping his distance out of respect and indecision about the Prime’s level of tolerance to being touched. He’s honestly has no idea how to handle the situation or what to do and it is making the meek mech fidget and twitch in growing anxiety.

“Bulkhead… have you ever considered what you would do if you had a sparkling?” The bulky green mech blinks a few times at his leader, completely thrown by the sudden question. His jaw works up and down a few times, vocalizer clicking as he struggles for words. “I well… I uh…um…”

  
The sudden sound of distinct sirens leaves Bulkhead sighing in relief, saved from a very awkward and somewhat disturbing situation. Moments later Ratchet appears, transforming he storms down to the two seated mech’s, optics firmly locked on Optimus’ back. The red and white medic vents in and out loudly several times before turning to Bulkhead face plates twisted into a nasty scowl.

 

“Thanks for finding him, but I need to talk to Prime alone. Let the others know where we are and head back to base. We’ll be there soon.” Hesitating Bulkhead looks worriedly from Prime to Ratchet. A sharp glare and low growl from the elder sees the bulky green mech scuttling off to do as ordered.

 

Waiting until Bulkhead is well out of sight and audio range, Ratchet turns to the object of his ire and spark deep worry. “Prime, I know you’re upset and in shock but that wasn’t really the smartest thing to do in you condition… Ah, Primus… Look I’m sorry if I was a bit too blunt before, but please trust me. It’ll be best if we go back to base so I can do some proper tests, see what’s going on and make sure you’re both healthy. I promise I won’t do anything you ain’t comfortable with and I won’t harm the newspark. I swear on my old spark, kid.”

 

With a shaky intake Optimus pushes himself stiffly back up onto his peds. Turning to Ratchet he pulls himself together, shoulders straightening and optics hardening going into what Bumblebee had dubbed his ‘leader mode’. Nodding his head he begins walking to the main road. “Of course, Ratchet. Let’s go.”

 

Ratchet doesn’t like the sudden mood change, but Optimus is infamous in their group for his quick to change leader mode to mask emotional problems. The medic certainly didn’t consider it healthy.

 

Arriving back at base 10 cycles later both the Prime and medic ignore the questions shot in their direction as Ratchet ushered the silent mech back into the med bay and locked the doors. Sending an open comm. message to not be disturbed until further notice Ratchet set to work.

 

It took another hour of running various scans, tests and taking small samples before Ratchet worked up the nerve to ask the question he was dreading the answer to. Newsparks didn’t just appear. They required a built up charge from tactile stimulation, connected data cables and a full spark merge. Even then the success rate was only 32% for a mech and 57% for a femme. What made the situation even more bizarre was that he had never seen or heard of a successful sparking between a flyer and grounder. The implications of all that, plus the evidence in the newsparks energy signature were both medically and scientifically fascinating and highly disturbing.

 

“Well, you and the newspark are in good health, though you will need to include some raw metals soon in your diet to keep it that way.” Optimus simply nods. Taking a long calming intake and out vent Ratchet pulled together his nerve and prepared for the worst. “Prime - Optimus, you know what it takes to create a newspark and we lost sight of you in that battle recently and the new spark is only just on a deca-cycle old so I have to ask and I need you to be truthful... Did Megatron do anything to you? Did he force himself on you?”

 

Optimus stares at Ratchet blankly for a moment before his optics turn steely, vocals a low growl. “No.” Ratchet studied the Prime’s optics, faceplates and posture looking for any signs he may be lying, but finds none leaving him even more confused than when this had all started.

 

“How did this happen?” Optimus asks quietly. “Sure Megatron struck me with that energy beam from the Allspark - and the impact hurt like the pit, like my plating was going to cave in - but he never touched me like-like _that_. He never physically breached my chest plates or connected with me yet you’re telling me this newspark has his code and energy signature. It doesn’t make sense.” Thinking about it, Ratchet reopens the test results noting the level of Allspark energy also present within the newspark.

 

“To be honest Prime I don’t really know. I have a theory, but until I go through all these results and review a few things I can’t give you a definite answer and I’d rather not play around with speculation. You’re just gonna have to be patient.” Glancing at the locked door and noting all the missed comm. pings Ratchet looks at the young Prime who’s finally relaxed some what, the stress and shock obviously taking its toll.

 

Sitting forward head resting in his hands Optimus harshly out vents. “What about the others? What am I going to say to them… what can I say to them? Oh Primus, what will they think of me?” Optimus mumbles.

 

“We’ll deal with the others in the morning. In the mean time, I want you to stay here overnight so I can monitor you and the newspark like you should have been when it first took. Right now the thing you need most is recharge, no arguments.” Without warning Ratchet touches a soft spot on the Prime’s neck slipping the young mech a light sedative not trusting them to recharge properly on their own. Optimus protests lightly but with the all the emotional stress and shock he quickly follows the medic’s instructions to lay back and gives in to the sedatives effects.

 

Waiting until he was sure the Prime was in full recharge Ratchet slips in some monitoring wires at various points on Optimus long frame and reopens his comm. contacting the one most level headed in their little group.

 

:: _Ratchet to Prowl_. :: The response is instant. :: _Prowl here. How is Prime?_ :: Glancing over at the recharging blue and red mech Ratchet replies curtly. :: _He’s fine._ ::, :: _Ratchet, you are not a very good liar._ :: Is the terse reply making the medic growl. _Damn that slippery little ninja_ , Ratchet grouses.

 

:: _Fine, look for all intents and purposes he’s alright. Right now he’s very stressed and needs rest so I don’t want him disturbed. Just let the others know he’s ok and that we’ll discuss things in the beginning of the coming solar-cycle, but I don’t want to see a single slip of plate from any of them until then, understood?_ :: The elder grumbled down the line. :: _Understood Ratchet. Prowl out._ ::

 

Turning to his diagnostic tools the medic begins sifting through his findings, checking and comparing Optimus medical history and digging up recent footage from the latest battle with the Decepticons all the while watching the monitoring readouts on the young Prime. It is going to be a very long night.

 

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

“Summing it up, basically going by my research and review of the footage from the battle, a mix of energies from the Allspark and Megatron’s spark got into Optimus’ spark chamber through the full thickness micro fractures created by the blast. The side effect was an overcharge of his spark and with the added secondary energy signature a sparking was triggered which resulted in the newspark Optimus is now carrying.” Ratchet concludes pausing in his pacing and folding his arms behind his back waiting somewhat patiently for the reactions of his little audience of 3 Autobots and one human child.

 

Staring wide eyed from her perch on Bumblebee’s shoulder, Sari is the first to pipe up after Ratchet’s rather brief explanation of the Prime’s current state.

 

“Soooo… lemme get this straight. Prime’s having Megatron’s baby, but Megatron never actually touched him, right? It was the Allspark, spark beam thingy that did it?” The little girl asks scratching her head. “We call them sparklings, but yes that’s basically it.” Ratchet nods monitoring the reactions of the mech’s present.

 

The news has struck Bumblebee dumb, which Ratchet is quietly pleased with, Prowl remains his usual stoic-self showing very little reaction, but the medic notes how the cyber-ninja’s has tensed slightly and poor Bulkhead looks almost relieved while also appearing terribly shocked, a feat in itself. Sari though is looking thoroughly confused.

 

“Whoa, hang on, isn’t Prime, you know, a guy? How can he have a ba- I mean sparkling? And where is he anyway, I haven’t seen him since yesterday.” Sari blurts out glancing around the large space. Sighing Ratchet drags a rough hand down his aged face plates. When the youngling started asking questions she could really get on a roll.

 

“Firstly, he’s in his quarters actually doing what I ask for once and taking some needed down time. I’m sure you lot ain’t gonna break without him for a day or two. Secondly, it ain’t that simple Sari. You humans have two distinct genders, male and female. We don’t have genders we have frame types and spark types. It’s our spark, not genes like you humans, that determines what we look like and what type of frame we have right down to the colours and patterns of our skin nanites. Within that we have different spark types, femme or mech, that’s about as close as we get to having genders. Both can spark a newspark, but femmes tend to have a higher success rate than mech’s due to their sparks being a little larger and able hold a charge better. That is the only base difference.” Ratchet concludes watching as the youngling human takes it all in and begins thinking it over.

 

“Not completely true Ratchet.” All optics and eyes turn to the near silent black and gold mech sitting perched on the arm of the couch. “There are also the fundamental differences between grounders and flyers. Is it not a fact grounders and flyers cannot breed and produce a viable newspark?” Yet again silently cursing the ninja-bot and his annoying insight, Ratchet out vents hard. “Yes that’s true. Incompatible frequencies or something like that. No ones ever really figured it out.” The medic snips at Prowl who remains completely unfazed.

 

“That brings about my next question, how is it that Optimus, a ground type, is successfully carrying a flyer type’s newspark without any complications or issues?” Ratchet raises a red hand, mouth opening ready to deliver a snappy retort, but the words die in his vocalizer as a thought occurs to him. Would there be complications? Was the newspark itself a potential danger to Optimus? What kind of effects could if have on him physically and possibly mentally. “Frag it all.” He grumbles under his breath.

 

“Ha you swore Ratchet that means you get cleaning duty this week!” Bumblebee cheers seconds before a flying wrench connects squarely with his helm. Growling and spitting curses under his breath, completely ignoring the yellow mini-bots over dramatized whining, Ratchet storms off towards the end of their base converted into private quarters.

 

Rapping his knuckles on the door Ratchet calls out. “It’s me Prime. We need to talk.”

 

“You’re telling me this hasn’t happened before and there might be difficulties?” Optimus asks hand resting over his spark. “Yes. Honestly I dunno what might happen during the gestation. Things could go completely by the data pad or there could be complications in ways I can only guess at. I just don’t know.” Ratchet grouses being none too pleased with how quickly things are getting well out of his range of control.

 

“It’s alright Ratchet. I guess I’ll just deal with whatever issues or complications there may be as they come up.” Optimus shrugs trying to hide his discomfort as he goes back to re-reading the information on gestation, spark baring and protoforming the medic supplied him with on an old data pad. “I guess so uh-…Hang on what?” Ratchet yelps in disbelief.

 

“I’m keeping it Ratchet. I don’t care who the si- energy donor is. It’s my sparkling and I intend to raise it myself.” Optimus states matter-of-factly looking up from the data pad to meet the medic’s optics. “Oh really? And when did you make this decision exactly? I hate to say this, but you do remember who it is linked to right and you were listening not 2 solar-cycles ago right?” Crossing his arms over his chest plates, the medic eyes the younger mech unsure whether he is happy or apprehensive of their seemingly abrupt choice.

 

Placing the data pad in his lap Optimus levels Ratchet with a cool stare. “This cycle actually. I’ve thought about everything… I’ve always wanted to eventually have a sparkling and I am not about to destroy a new life just because of how it was created or who it shares a spark signature with. I’m prepared to raise it by myself…“ Optimus trails off slightly, suddenly remembering something. “Uh… How did they take the news… the others I mean?” Blinking owlishly Ratchet shakes off his shock at the sudden change in topic. “Ah, well pretty good all things considered. Actually managed to shock motor mouth Bumblebee silent. Best few cycles of my long life.” Ratchet chuckles earning a small genuine laugh from Optimus. Something very rarely heard.

 

“I’ll leave you be for now, but I want to see you every solar-cycle for the next 2 orbital-cycles youngling. This is going to be the critical period for the newspark and you. I also need to fit you for an extra armor layer, knowing you, you ain’t gonna stop fighting just cause you’re carrying.” Nodding Optimus’ face plates remain stoic, but his optics betray his relief and the fact his CPU is working on overdrive.

 

Turning to leave Ratchet looks back at the young blue and red mech sitting on his berth already back to avidly reading the data pad, one hand resting over his spark. “Don’t burn yourself out Prime. Make sure you get plenty of recharge, you’re gonna need it once that little bitlet gets serious about stripping your systems for its protoform.” With that the medic slips from the cramped quarters sliding the door shut behind him.

 

Taking a few steps Ratchet pauses face plates pinching in equal parts irritation and exasperation. Red and white arms folded over his chest, hip cocked Ratchet slowly tilts his helm towards the ceiling staring at an outwardly non-descript section. Optics narrowing, the red and white mech eventually huffs “If you wanna talk to him just knock on his door, simple as that.” The portion of the roof he is staring at suddenly shifts, flickers then reforms into the lithe black and gold frame of Prowl.

 

Dropping soundlessly to the floor the cyber-ninja regards the medic coolly as usual. “I was just curious to see how Optimus is fairing. This is a very big development for all of us, Optimus in particular.” Rolling his optics Ratchet taps blunt fingers on his arm. “Yeah, yeah, look Prowl despite what it looks like he ain’t hiding from the rest of you. He is actually taking my advice for once, but to be blunt he needs to talk to someone other than me on this.”

 

Prowl didn’t miss the heavy hints that Ratchet wanted him to be the one to talk to the Prime. Sure he is the most level headed, emotionally controlled and centered one of the group, but that doesn’t mean he knows ANYTHING about how to approach a carrying mech, let alone one that is supposed to be his superior and carrying the sparkling of their enemy. Its origins still seem dubious to the cyber-ninja, but he is willing to accept Ratchet’s words with a bit of personally gleaned confirmation.

 

“If you so insist Ratchet, I will speak with him.” Prowl drawls, receiving an amused snort from the elder mech. _Sure you will_ , Ratchet muses to himself carefully watching every slight shift in the smaller mech’s frame. Medics of his time were trained to observe their crew members and learn all their subtle mannerisms to help pick out anomalies in their regular behavior that could indicate missed or undiagnosed injuries.

Ratchet has noticed a lot in the days following the huge battle with Megatron. Amongst the general air of anticipation and fear surrounding the group, Prowl has shown a marked increase in his interest in the Prime. Before the cyber-ninja did as he pleased, pretty much ignoring Optimus entirely. Now Ratchet has noticed the lingering analytical stares the black and gold mech has been shooting in the Prime’s direction.

 

Prowl quirks an optic ridge, optical band shifting as Ratchet’s stare lasts longer than necessary. The way the medic is staring at him beginning to unsettle younger’s cool, indifferent pose. Giving the dark mech a small, lopsided knowing smirk Ratchet struts around Prowl heading back to his med bay. _Young mech’s, think they’re so smart, so subtle. That one couldn’t be displaying his interest any louder if it were written in huge glowing red glyphs across his skinny chassis_.

 

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Waiting until Ratchet has gone into his med bay, Prowl finally turns to the Prime’s closed door. Rapping his knuckles once he announces his presence. “Prime, it’s Prowl.”

 

There is a long pause before the door slides open revealing a rather tense Optimus staring down at him, his face plates unreadable. “Is there something you needed Prowl?” The ninja-bot can hear the edgy hesitance in the Prime tries and fails to hide.

 

“I would just like to speak to you. In private.” Tilting his helm slightly, Prowl watches and waits as Optimus stares at him for a long tense moment before silently turning away and stepping back into his quarters. Taking the unspoken invitation Prowl slips into the room closing the door behind him as Optimus shifts to sit on his berth, regarding the black and gold mech with sharp optics. Prowl stares back, face plates and body betraying nothing past his usual air of calm readiness.

 

Sighing Optimus crosses his arms over his chest in a defensive manner. “I can hazard a guess at what it is exactly you want to speak with me about.” Nodding Prowl moves to lean against the far wall, at least part of the tension in the air broken. “Yes. I just have a few things I would like to have confirmed first hand.”

 

“Such as?” Optimus asks eyeing the smaller mech. “I’d like to confirm some points in Ratchet’s story. For one, is it true? Are you carrying?” Optimus turns away from a moment before looking Prowl dead in the optics. “Yes, I am.” He replies coolly, arms raising and tightening around his chest.

 

Nodding Prowl gathers himself for his next question. “Ok. Then is it also true that Megatron never actually connected or merged with you? You will understand that I find that hard to believe since you have confirmed you are carrying.” Prowl watches Optimus carefully as his optics narrow, but otherwise doesn’t show any outward sign of deception or discomfort. “I can understand, but no, he never touched me that way. The only times he did touch me he was trying to permanently offline me.”

 

“And is it really his… its sire is Megatron?” Prowl asks softly, finding the question difficult to ask let alone wait for the answer. Tensing up optics flaring briefly Optimus locks the smaller mech with a dead stare. “Yes the energy donor is Megatron, but it also gained some of its energy from the Allspark. I’m sure Ratchet told you about that.” Pushing away from the wall Prowl glances from Optimus optics to his arms wrap securely around his chest back to his optics. Optical band narrowing he scrutinizes every little shift as he asks his next question. “And you intend to keep it don’t you? You do realize the dangers you could face simply carrying a sparkling of mixed coding, let alone how Megatron may react if he finds out?” Prowl presses concern straining his usually steady tone.

 

Scowl twisting his features Optimus straightens, optics alighting with a determined glow. “Yes Prowl, I am keeping it. I don’t care who it may be connected to, as far as I am concerned it is my sparkling and mine alone. Now I have a question for you. Why are you suddenly so interested in all this? I could understand for curiosity sake, but Ratchet would be better at explaining all this than me and I’ve worked with you long enough to know there’s more to it than that.”

 

Sighing Prowl rubs the centre of his chevron thinking how best to answer his question. “You must admit looking at this from my perspective it looked… dubious, especially when Ratchet said Megatron was the sire in such a roundabout, impossible sounding way and that you had been carrying since the battle.” Moving to begin pacing, betraying his image of perfect control and calm the black and gold mech continues. “In truth, despite Ratchet’s assurances I couldn’t help think that Megatron may have… may have…” “Forced a merge and connection.” Optimus finished softly for the clearly agitated ninja-bot.

 

Prowl nods, “Yes, and that he may be covering the attack with that convoluted sounding story.” He finishes, keeping the other idea that maybe Ratchet had something to do with the conception to himself. The story the veteran medic had given seemed way too farfetched to be true and considering the ages of the only other two mech’s in their team Ratchet was his only logical conclusion for the sparkling’s sire. The only other option was a forced merge since Prowl could never see Optimus consensually interfacing with Megatron. Thinking about it now, Ratchet as the sire is a rather laughable idea, but Prowl just can’t help himself.

 

He’d only recently actually _noticed_ Optimus for the mech he really was, not just the Elite Guard drop out struggling to be the leader of their little rag tag group. Seeing him fight against an opponent millennia older, larger and considerably stronger than himself for the second time and defeat them yet again had triggered off something in the ninja-bot. Optimus hadn’t just fought for himself in that second battle. He’d fought to prevent the Allspark getting into the wrong hands and to protect the lives of not only his team, but all life on this little organic planet. A planet Prowl greatly loved. A love he now realizes Optimus shares in how own capacity. That knowledge had made Prowl finally stand up and take notice of the young Prime and look at him past his title and his usually stress induced lecturing. So far he likes what he is seeing.

 

Looking back at the young Prime staring down at his own hand now lying over his spark, thumb absently moving over the red metal Prowl gathers his nerves again. Being close to anyone since losing Yoketron has been hard for him, but he feels its time to move forward. It was time to lose some of the cold, aloof act. “I understand your want to keep it Optimus… and know that I support your decision and will be here for you… whenever need help.”

 

Optimus blinks a few times staring at Prowl in utter shock. The lithe mech had hardly spoken to him before, outside of giving his opinion on missions, minor complaints about their general situation or his handling of it. To have him play 20 questions like an interrogation then turn around and declare his support for his decision has really thrown him.

 

“I… uh… thank you Prowl.” Optimus mumbles slightly confused with the turn of events. Prowl graces the Prime with a small barely discernable smile, before bowing his helm in respect and slipping from the room.

 

* * *

 

Cataloging the tools and equipment within his med bay organizing what will be most useful in the coming year, Ratchet doesn’t notice the door sliding open, but he certainly notices the loud clatter of heavy peds entering the room. He barely resists the urge to snarl at whoever has been dumb enough to barge into his domain unannounced.

 

Placing the current tool under inspection slowly down onto the bench, the elder turns to find Bumblebee, Bulkhead and Sari standing just inside the door. All three displaying varying levels of nervousness and barely contained excitement.

 

“Hi Ratchet, how you doing?” Sari greets, putting on her best sweet smile and cute pose. It has little effect on the grizzled old medic.

 

“What do you lot want?” The medic grumbles. He has enough on his mind with Optimus pondering over all the worst case scenarios he can think of, of which there are a lot, without being interrupted by the resident ‘peanut gallery’.

 

Tapping his large, blunt fingers together in a nervous twitch Bulkhead stutters, “Uh, we uh… were wondering… w-with Optimus carrying and stuff… we wanted to… uh know, um I mean ask about -” Impulsive and impatient as always Sari buts in. “We wanna know how sparklings are made.” Ratchet swore his old spark just about gave out just now. _Dear Primus help me_ , he silently prays forcing his nearly stalled CPU back into order.

 

“You lot want to know how sparklings are made? Didn’t they teach you anything in boot camp?” Ratchet snaps at the two young mechs. Both shake their heads in the negative. “We didn’t get to that part in the uh, interface education bit… and Sari wants to know too. She says she’s had the, um what did you call it ‘the trees and birds talk’ with her father creator, but wants to know about us too.” Bumblebee admitted with some embarrassment, shuffling around on his peds. “It’s the birds and the bees talk, Bumblebee.” Sari informs the yellow mini-bot from her perch in his cupped hands.

 

Grumbling Ratchet closes his optics willing his rising irritation down. _Of course they’d be curious now with a carrying mech in their midst, but did they have to bring the human youngling into this?_ Opening his optics the medic finds Sari putting on her ‘puppy dog pout’ as she calls it, low lip stuck out, eyes wide and glistening.

 

“Please Ratchet. Even if I just sit in on you giving them the talk. I wanna know what’s gonna happen with Optimus. And I wanna know he’s gonna be ok after what Prowl said. Pleeeeeeeeeease. I promise I’ll be good and quiet.” Eyeing the young human, with a highly dubious expression the elder receives a pleading look including a wobbling lower lip and signs of moisture building up within the tear ducts. _Great, just great she’s going to start leaking again, no wait she called it crying. Either way I don’t need it right now_ , Ratchet grouses to himself.

 

“Alright, alright fine if it will stop you leaking. Better you two younglings know so we don’t have any stupid mistakes in the future.” Turning away to put away his equipment Ratchet cringes at the loud excited squeal from Sari. Grumbling to himself, the old medic decides human younglings are worse than any Autobot youngling he’s ever had to deal with. At least they didn’t spring random leaks from the optics or employ rather devious emotional manipulation tactics when they didn’t get their way.

 

Gathering his wits and what little patience he has Ratchet turns back to his audience of two nervous, fidgeting young mechs and one disturbingly excited little human. _If the kid ends up traumatized after this I’m blaming it on Bulkhead and Bumblebee, they can deal with Optimus wrath when he finds out_. “Right park yourselves and shut your traps. If you have any questions make them good, legitimate ones or you’ll find you’re helm smarting. Got it?” Ratchet watches Bumblebee and Bulkhead nearly fall over each other scooting up to sit on the medical berth, Sari taking a perch on the bulky green mech’s shoulder as they patiently wait for his ‘words of wisdom’.

 

2 hours later a very twitchy Bulkhead and perfectly silent Bumblebee wander from the med bay, one rather pale and confused Sari still sitting perched on Bulkhead’s shoulder trying to make heads and tails of everything she has heard. She knew her friends were aliens and of course had weird alien things they did and all but that just took the cake! They didn’t even really have boy bits and girl bits, everyone was basically the same. It all didn’t sound as icky as what her dad had told her, well actually he’d given her a picture book to read on everything, with data cables, sparks and stuff. Kind of sounded more like a computer link up than any real intimacy she’d ever heard of, but it certainly sounded much more… invasive, especially when they found someone they wanted to spend the rest of their life with.

 

Ratchet said when Autobots decided they’d found someone they wanted to stay with permanently they had a ceremony like a human wedding, but then they took it that one step further. They actually bared their spark, their very soul to their husband/wife or what Ratchet had called a ‘bondmate’ and merged their sparks to become literally joined together til death do they part. Apparently when they did that every single memory and moment of their lives was shared with each other, nothing would be left out.

 

The young human can’t fathom being so attached or so in love to someone to go that far! Sari still personally finds boys icky and stupid… the few she’d met anyway. She likes the bots better, in her mind they were still boys but Bumblebee and Bulkhead were much more fun.

 

Thinking about what she has learned Sari now truly appreciates the Autobots sparks are literally their very soul and living essence. Apparently to Autobots, having your chest plates open and spark on view for anyone to see was as embarrassing and scandalous as a human running around in public in their undies… or birthday suit. Ratchet had been rather meticulous in explaining their sparks, in turn to explaining the whole, interfacing, bonding and sparklings bit.

 

Ratchet had also been very thorough in explaining how sparklings were made and what they were like. To Sari the process of actually making one sounded really weird and was hard for her young mind to comprehend. All she truly understood was that sparklings were like human babies in that they were grew inside their ‘mother’ in their chest instead of their tummy and they had to be actually taken out to be born.

 

Thinking about the Prime who was now carrying a sparkling of his own Sari felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. Excitement about getting to see her first sparkling and apprehension now she knew more about sparks. The fact she had seen Optimus’ spark when she brought him back with the combination of the Allspark and key was going to make it difficult to look him in the optics again for a bit. That is until Bumblebee challenges her to another racing game.

 

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Sitting on monitor duty like he has been for almost a full deca-cycle, since a certain medic doesn’t want him leaving base unless absolutely necessary, Optimus can’t help the boredom induced sigh through his vents. He usually doesn’t mind monitor duty, but 8 straight solar-cycles of it is starting to seriously strain his patience and make him increasingly frustrated and fidgety. It didn’t help the Decepticons had been incredibly quiet of late and no new Allspark shards had shown up so he couldn’t use that as an excuse to get out of base, even for a few kliks.

 

To Ratchet quiet Decepticons were more of a potential danger to the carrying mech than Decepticons tearing up down town Detroit. Optimus didn’t really see the logic in it, but threats to have his transformation nets locked and be restrained in the med bay ‘for the good of the sparkling’ helped convince him.

 

Switching displays of the city and changing deep space scan frequencies Optimus shifts in his seat, the muscle cables and hydraulics in his back and lower legs feeling like they are stuck near their highest tension limit leaving him irritated and uncomfortable. No amount of wriggling around or walks within the confines of the base seems to relieve the minor, but constant strain. Add to that the boredom and his mood was less than pleasant.

 

“Optimus, are you feeling alright?” The young Prime starts at the sudden deep voice directly beside him. Turning he finds Prowl watching him carefully, optical band narrowed in scrutiny. He’s still getting used to Prowl’s watchfulness and want to talk to him, not to mention his sudden use of the Prime’s given designation. Optimus certainly appreciates having the highly intelligent and level headed mech to talk to on a friendly basis. Especially lately when he has had a few moments where thinking too much has left him second guessing himself on many fronts and stressing out over his decision to keep the life slowly growing within his frame.

 

Trying to get his wide set shoulders to relax from their taught position, Optimus gives the ninja-bot a small, strained smile pushing down his want to snap for being startled. “Yeah, I’m fine Prowl, just stiff from sitting here for cycles on end boring myself out of my processor.” Optimus tries to laugh off his discomfort, but it quickly becomes obvious Prowl can see right through him.

 

Without a word the slender dark mech slips behind the seated Prime, long grey fingers barely ghosting over dense red plating. “Uh… Prowl what –“ A gently tap against one raised audial finial and a sharp shushing noise from the cyber-ninja has Optimus sitting compliantly, if a little wary. Prowl’s fingers carefully trace over his back plating, touching here and pressing there seeking out the problem areas.

 

Tensing up Optimus tries not to flinch or twist away as Prowl’s deft fingers find all the uncomfortable tight spots in his shoulders and back. Humming to himself the dark mech traces the lines of tension and blocked energy flow he can feel almost vibrating through the Prime’s frame following them towards the central line of his back and around the lighting array of his alt mode.

 

“Try and relax.” Prowl murmurs fingers pressing firmly along the line of the Prime’s shoulders, concentrating a charge down into his finger tips to coaxing the blocked energy into flowing more freely.

 

It takes a few kliks, but eventually Optimus begins to relax as the stubborn tension seems to miraculously ebb away. Unconsciously, the Prime begins leaning back into Prowl’s knowledgeable fingers as his previously dark mood softens as the discomfort fades. Small smile twitching at the corner of his thin derma plates Prowl decides to press this little opening, see how responsive the Prime will be with a slightly more direct approach in displaying his interest in potentially more than mere friendship.

 

Reducing the previously friendly distance down to their plating being only inches apart, he begins moving his hands closer to the base of Prime’s neck and the top of his broad shoulders. “That feel better now?” Prowl asks, voice low and soft closing the remaining few inches of distance between them. Optimus just nods simply thankful for some relief after so many days of seemingly relentless discomfort. He has grown used to the consistent, even pressure within his spark chamber, but this other strain along with the boredom had been playing on his remaining reserves of patience and sanity.

 

Having them relaxed and alone now seems like the best time to see if Optimus would be open to a courtship request. In Cybertronian society for a mech/femme to pursue another for a relationship there had to be a mutual agreement for courtship. Prowl had been dropping hints, ranging from subtle to not so, for a good 2 orbital cycles now hoping for Optimus to clue on and respond so he could make a formal request, but so far he hadn’t given any hint of even noticing. He could only guess it could be because the other was too focused on his sparkling and all the other usual stresses of leadership or he simply was not interested.

 

Resting his hands lightly on broad red shoulders the lithe black mech gathers himself for potential rejection. “Optimus, may I ask you something?” Snapping his lagging processor back into gear Optimus sits forward doing his best to hide the sudden rush of embarrassment setting his neural lines a blaze. He usually never lets his guard down that far or let another get that physically close and if he is honest with himself, it scared him a little.

 

“Of course, what do you need?” Optimus asks, turning in his seat to better face Prowl. Sharp blue optics follow Prowl’s slender hand as he tentatively reaches out, hovering over a red shoulder before coming to lightly rest on the angular plating. “It is a rather… personal question. One that I hope will not jeopardize our friendship what ever your answer may be.” He receives a quirked black and white optic ridge in response.

 

Drawing heavily on his training and emotional restraint Prowl stared directly back into narrowed, questioning optics. “I would like to pro-“, “Hi Optimus! Hi Prowl!” The shrill voice of Sari sees Prowl quickly snatching his hand away from the seated Prime and taking a large step back.

 

Bounding up to the two mech’s the young human looks from Prowl to Optimus and back before setting her sights on the Prime eyes glinting with childish glee. The dark cyber-ninja nods his acknowledgement of the human child as she skips the remaining distance to the Prime throwing Prowl a wide grin.

 

“Hello Sari.” Optimus smiles at Sari as she skips up to stand at his peds throwing her hands up ad wildly gesturing to be picked up. Bending down with a short, stiff pause Optimus offers his open palm, which the girl deftly clambers on to, easily balancing herself as she is lifter to chest level. “How are you feeling Optimus?” Sari asks sweetly. “I’m fine thank you.”

 

Sari stares at the large mech from her perch, eyes flicking from his face to his chest as she rocks back and forth on her feet, toying with her fingers. The awkward silence between them last a few moments before Sari blurts out. “Can I touch you chest? Please? I wanna see if I can feel it now. Please, please, please!”

 

Sighing through his vents Optimus barely resists dragging his free hand down his face in exasperation. Sari has been tailing Optimus since she found out about the sparkling, watching him like a hawk, asking him anything and everything about the sparkling and insisting on touching his chest to see if she could feel it, ‘like you can touch a new mummy’s belly and feel the bump of the baby and sometimes feel them kick’ she’d insisted.

 

“Sari, you know it’s going to be several solar cycles before there’s going to be anything significant there and even then you won’t be able to feel it through my plating.” The Prime explains for the umpteenth time to the curious little girl, but like always she ignores his simple, logical argument. “Pleeeeeeeeese Optimus? I promise I won’t bug you the rest of the day. Honest!” She presses, bottom lip pushed out in a dramatic pout, dark eyes wide and pleading.

 

Releasing another slow shunt of compressed air through his vents the Prime relents bringing the girl in close to his chest. A delighted squeal peels from the red head as she immediately moves to press the side of her face and hands to the dense red metal and dark false glass, hands searching for any changes in the warm metal.

 

A small unexpected pang of jealousy flits unbidden through the cyber-ninja’s spark at the sight. He quickly shifts his stance, hands twining behind his back to hide the abrupt jolt at letting such an emotion rear up. _She’s only an innocent human youngling_ , he hisses internally lightly berating himself for letting his control slip so badly. She can’t know the significance of where she is touching or the volume of unspoken trust Optimus is showing allowing her to touch such an intimate zone of a mech’s body and come so close to not only his spark, but recently formed newspark as well.

 

Prowl watches closely as small hands feel across the planes of Optimus’ chest, ear pressed firmly against the metal as she listens intensely for what, he can only guess. In a way it is quite an amusing and spark warming sight watching the always curious little human’s soft face pinch and twists in concentration.

 

Looking to the large mech also intently watching the girl, his free hand hovering close behind her, Prowl can’t help the small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. Ever since Sari had become a permanent fixture with their little team the girl had been slowly gravitating more towards the large Prime. The girl loved to play and have fun with Bumblebee and Bulkhead day in and day out, attached to the two younglings almost like a limpet at times, but in moments when she was badly missing her sire - or father as humans call them - Optimus was always happy to oblige her presence for long periods, sometimes talking about subjects that would bore the younger mechs, other times just sitting and enjoying one another’s company. Prowl doubted the Prime realized why she clung to him in moments like those or how easily he was settling into the role of surrogate father. He seemed to be taking to it better than his role as their leader at least, though he was making huge progress with that of late.

 

Finally giving up, her short attention span winning out, Sari sits back with a disappointed huff. Clearly whatever signs of the sparkling she’d been looking for hadn’t been found. Prowl barely contains a small laugh at the face she pulls when Optimus gives her an ‘I-told-you-so’ look.

 

Stiffly setting the little human back on the ground, they both watch as she waves her goodbye before running off yelling for Bumblebee, calling for a re-mach on their latest videogame. Slowly turning his attention back to the slender dark mech Optimus tilts his helm. “You wanted to ask me something Prowl?”

 

Nodding slowly Prowl does his best to maintain a neutral expression and stance, this time keeping his hands tucked behind his back. Cycling a calming draft of air Prowl stares directly into the bright blue optics watching him with curiosity. “Yes of course. I will understand if you do not want to pursue this and hope that we will still be able to remain friends.” Optimus’ optics narrow slightly as he tilts his helm further to the side in confusion. “Um, alright.” He hedges. _He has no idea does he?_ Prowl questions himself as he observes the Prime’s posture and tone. _Could there be a third reason he has not responded to my small advances? He has been in a relationship before hasn’t he? What about those mecha he was supposedly with from the Academy before the big ‘incident’?_

“Optimus Prime, I would like to propose a courtship.” He states formally, offering his hand palm up as per Autobot tradition. For his trouble Prowl receives a stunned, wide opticed stare from the mech before him. Waiting patiently for a response, the dark cyber-ninja begins to worry as the silence drags on much longer than he anticipated the other simply staring at him, body returned to the early ridged set.

 

Dropping his hand back to his side Prowl takes a step back, mind already smothering the rising disappointment with disciplined calm. “I am sorry if I offended you, Prime.” He says softly, dipping his helm slightly in respect.

 

Finally getting his near frozen cortex to respond Optimus quickly stands, almost stumbling over himself as his stiff knee and ankle joints protest. “Oh, no Prowl, you haven’t offended me it’s… it’s just… Why would you want to?” Receiving a confused look from the cyber-ninja he continues. “I mean… I can’t offer you anything in status. You know why I’m here, leading this team. My title as a Prime is just an allowance until I finish my probation and can reapply for full training for the Elite Guard, which isn’t a guarantee I will ever get that status, let alone anything above my station now. And there’s the… the sparkling…”

 

Prowl can’t help the smile that pulls across his derma, such a silly, self-deprecating and short sighted mech Optimus can be. He’s about to reach out, give the Prime his reasons for approaching him when the distinct thumping of heavy ped-falls breaks the little moment. Rounding the corner Ratchet doesn’t even look at Prowl or his proximity to Optimus as he storms up to the young mech. “You. My med bay. NOW.” Grabbing the Prime’s arm he begins unceremoniously dragging the surprised mech along behind him giving no chance for questions or protests.

 

Jamming his heels into the concrete floor Optimus uses his greater weight and strength to stop the medic. “Ratchet, what are you doing? You could have commed me instead of barging in and nearly yanking my arm out of its joint socket.” Optimus growls his mood rapidly taking a swing back towards dark and sour under the smaller mechs manhandling.

 

“I spotted something going through your scans that has me worried. That good enough? Yes? Good.” Turning to the cyber-ninja as though he hadn’t blatantly ignored his presence moments earlier, Ratchet uses his unofficial status as the next highest in rank. “Prowl, you’re on monitor duty until I’m done with Prime.” Snatching up their arm again Ratchet moves to resume dragging the young mech to his med bay willing or not. All Optimus could do was give the poor ninja-bot a bewildered, sorrowful look before he was pulled out of sight.

 

Ratchet pointedly ignored the pinched look from the dark mech as he took charge of his patient. As far as the medic was concerned as long as Optimus was carrying he could and would exert what little authority he had to make sure the young mech and sparkling had the best chance. Being the first grounder/flyer cross breed he wasn’t taking any chances.

 

The urge to protest the ornery medic’s supposed authority dies as quickly as it flared within Prowl’s spark. He knew in reality Ratchet has the most life experience, especially in war related matters and his status as chief and sole medical officer of their team gave him enough leeway to overrule or take control of things when Optimus couldn’t. Besides, all of them knew what a delicate balance was being play out with the Prime and his sparkling. Where that was concerned what Ratchet said, goes.

 

Taking up the recently vacated monitoring post Prowl notices a marker has come up on the main screen indicating an incoming, high priority message with Elite Guard encrypting. Tentatively hitting the call button he is met with the hard glare of Sentinel Prime.

 

“This is Sentinel Prime of the Elite Guard speaking on behalf of Commander Ultra Magnus. We will be arriving on – ugh - the organic planet _Dirt_ in approximately 1 orbital-cycle at these coordinates. Optimus Prime and his team are required to be present with all evidence pertaining to the supposed Decepticon activity. That is all.”

 

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Ignoring his patients’ petulant mood, Ratchet probes, pulls and shifts the exposed protoform plates, lines and muscle cables using various tools on hand and recessed in his fingers. Measuring and comparing the placement and dimensions of each part to his records his concern steadily grows. Just as his earlier scans had shown, things weren’t matching up to his meticulous medical records.

 

Ratchet grumbles to himself returning the Prime’s back and side armor to their proper locations. He has no real explanation for what he’s seeing. If he didn’t know better he’d swear the Prime hadn’t finished growing into his protoform, but he knew that was ridiculous. Prime is a young adult and he’s long since finished his growth and formatting cycles. _Where’s a decent med bay when you need one_? _Why couldn’t Prime have sparked on Cybertron instead of this back water little mud ball!_

 

“Are you done trying to pull my cabling out?” Optimus grouses arms crossing over his broad chest and narrowed optics fixed on the far wall as Ratchet works at his back. Any patience he entered the med bay with has long since worn out. If it weren’t for his agreement to follow all the medics orders for the sake of his sparkling he would have already stormed out.

 

Ignoring the grumbled remark, Ratchet snatches up an old data pad, rifling through the contents at speed. “Have you been leaving anything out in your reports to me at the start of the solar-cycle? Anything at all? Pain, general discomfort, minor neural line misfires, anything?”

 

Unconsciously rubbing at his chest, acutely aware of the newspark pressing against his own within the limited space of his spark chamber, Optimus is tempted to remain silent. It’s a petty little rebellion over nothing driven by his irritable mood and distracted CPU.

“Only some minor aches caused by a bit of tension and stiffness in my back and legs. Nothing important.” He shrugs watching as the elders optics flare brightly.

 

It takes a small mountain of will power not to throw the data pad at the Prime. Biting frustration curls through his circuits at the young mech’s dismissive manner. “Nothing – Nothing important? Nothing important! Optimus everything is important! You’re carrying a sparkling of mixed coding that has never happened before! Every little twitch, bit of stiffness or ache, split second spark of pain, misfire of the most insignificant relay, sudden need for more energy or some odd craving,” He seethes, finger jabbing at the berth surface punctuating each point. “I want to know about it because pit knows what it could mean. Do I make myself clear?”

 

Optimus nods mutely, all but chomping on his glossa knowing full well now is not the time to test the grumpy medic any further no matter how badly he wants to snip back at them. A long awkward pause insures before the Prime quietly asks, “So, is there something wrong?”

 

Mentally gathering together what his research has shown Ratchet comes to the only available conclusion he can make. Shunting a harsh vent of air the medic decides to get straight to the point. “I think the Decepticon portion of the sparkling’s coding is merging with yours… altering it.”

 

The young Prime flicks his optics, not quite comprehending what he’s just been told. Pacing the medic does his best to explain as plainly as possible. “My latest scans show changes in the density of your protoform and signs of foreign internal structures. The signature of the build code coming from them is a mixture of yours and the sparklings. The best way I can put it is your body looks and is behaving like that of a mech still going through their final formatting stages. You’ve literally growing new skeletal structures and extra muscle cables, neural wires, energon and coolant lines but for what form exactly I can only guess. The only explanation for that is code contamination. And the only thing in your body right now with a good portion of coding that is completely different to yours is the sparkling.”

 

Optimus struggles to absorb and understand all that. The more he thinks on it and the implications the harder it gets to keep his mind from wandering in the direction of the worst case scenario. Termination. _No he wouldn’t make me do that. He promised_. _He gave his word he wouldn’t_.

 

Shaking his helm, thick fingers pressed between his closed optics he forces those dark thoughts from his processor. “What does that mean exactly? Is the sparkling driving a reformat to make my frame better accommodate it? It can’t be that harmful right?”

 

“No, no that’s not it. The sparkling’s Decepticon coding is literally merging with yours. Moving into it and changing it like a virus, but without the damage. It’s not reformatting you for a new alt-mode. All your original alt-mode parts and line algorithms are still there and unchanged… honestly I’m not sure what its doing I don’t have the equipment I need to do proper diagnostics. I’ve got no idea if it will do any harm or not Optimus. And that’s what worries me the most.” Stopping his pacing Ratchet slams a red fist into the berth, startling the young Prime.

 

“This is why I need to know everything and I mean EVERYTHING. Understand.” It’s not a question and Optimus nods accordingly. He can tell the medics ire is only partly directed at him now. Since waking here on Earth the elder had been complaining about the lack of a decently stocked med bay. Optimus had done what he could with the bit of pull his team had gained with the local human government, but backwards human technology cobbled together with already old and outdated Cybertronian tech only got them so far.

 

“Of course Ratchet, I understand.” Flexing the plates of his back and shoulders, earning a few soft pops and creaks Optimus slips to the edge of the medical berth. “I should get back to the monitors. Prowl is supposed to be off duty now… and we need to sort some things out.” The last part is mumbled to himself as he pushes off the berth and heads to the door. He doesn’t see the subtle shift in the elder medic’s optics at the mention of the cyber-ninja.

 

Sliding the door open Optimus nearly runs into said cyber-ninja hovering outside the door. Noting their stiff posture and narrowed optical band the Prime can’t help but sense something is amiss.

 

“Prowl, is something wrong?” Their frame tenses further, golden shoulder fairings hitching high. “You need to see this.” Is said with a hard edge as the smaller mech sharply turns and quickly strides back towards the common area.

 

Taking several large strides to catch up with Prowl, the Prime rounds the corner to find Bumblebee, Bulkhead and Sari at the monitoring station. Slowing his pace to almost to a halt Optimus takes in the scene before him.

 

The yellow mini-bot is pacing back and forth, hands held behind his back as he mutters to himself. Bulkhead watching his friends relentless pacing, large flat fingers tapping together in a tell tale sign of his shared agitation. Sari is standing nearby worry and confusion written all over her small body and face as she stares at her two friends. Prowl has silently moved to stand next to the main console, narrowed optical band locked on the Prime.

 

Seeing his teams obvious distress the Prime is about to ask if there has been a Decepticon attack or some major disaster when the dark main screen flickers to life.

 

The glaring visage of Sentinel Prime fills the space as the recorded message replays. “ _This is Sentinel Prime of the Elite Guard speaking on behalf of Ultra Magnus. We will be arriving on – ugh - the organic planet Dirt in approximately 1 orbital-cycle at these coordinates. Optimus Prime and his team are required to be present with all evidence pertaining to the supposed Decepticon activity. That is all._ ” There is a brief flick before the screen goes blank.

 

Resetting his optics and few times, the message running in a droning loop in his CPU Optimus struggles to hold back the sudden panic tearing through his systems. On one hand he was delighted the Elite Guard truly believed enough to actually investigate his claims, on the other he was absolutely terrified of what they will do if they found out about the sparkling.

 

Knowing how most of the system worked it wouldn’t be just him getting put through the proverbial wringer, his crew would be held accountable too. Ratchet for not immediately terminating the spawn of a Decepticon and the others for not reporting it as soon as it was discovered. If his crew were lucky he may be able to keep them out of the stockades… the same couldn’t be said for himself.

 

“Optimus?” The soft call starts the Prime out of his frozen state. Looking down he finds Sari standing at his peds looking up at him, large brown eyes brimming with confusion. “Optimus, what’s going on? Who was that?” She asks, glancing back at the now dark screen. Following her line of sight he finds the others staring at him with a mixture of fear and desperation.

 

“Uh… Boss bot… what are we gonna do?” Bumblebee asks fidgeting on the spot. ”If the Elite Guard come, they’re gonna find out about the sparkling, then we’re all gonna get in such deep slag and… oh Primus we’ll get sent to the stockades! I don’t wanna go there! I’m too young to get sent there!” Bumblebee wailed resuming his relentless pacing, arms flailing. “Bumblebee…”, “I’ve heard they do things!” The yellow mini-bot grabbed his larger friend’s thick green arms, yanking them down to almost optic level with them. “Bad, BAD things!”, “Bumblebee.”, “They lock you in a teeny, tiny little cell and you’re never seen again!”, “BUMBLEBEE!”

 

The commanding bark stops the panicking mini-bot in his tracks. All optics and eyes immediately return to the Prime, blue hands balled into shaking fists at his sides, optics narrowed and glowing bright. “We will do as commanded. I want you all to transcribe and record everything you each have from our encounters and fights with the Decepticons. We finally have the chance to get the help we need against the Decepticons so I expect you all to contribute as much as possible. Is understood?”

 

All the bots present nod numbly. “But… w-what about the sparkling?” Bulkhead asks softly shifting the weight of his broad frame from one ped to the other.

 

Sighing, frame visibly sagging Optimus turns away from the expectant stares of the youngest team members, unable to tolerate the pleading and need for reassurance glowing in their optics. “I’ll deal with that when the time comes… for now just do as I ask. Please.” With that the young Prime leaves the common room heading for his quarters, arms wrapped around his waist. The burgeoning processor ache he’d begun the afternoon with was now a full blown helm splitting migraine and his tanks were churning horribly, threatening to expel their contents as the day’s compiled events finally got the better of his nerves. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so desperate to simply flee to his quarters, curl up into a miserable ball on his berth and hide from everyone and everything.

 

Sari makes a move to follow her friend, more than a little shaken by the situation but finds her path blocked by a grey and black hand. “Sari, Optimus needs a bit of time alone right now alright.” Prowl says carefully guiding the human youngling towards a pile of pillows and games stacked against the foot of the nearby concrete couch.

 

The little girl barely holds in a small sniffle, hand furiously rubbing at her face. Throwing herself into the pile of brightly coloured pillows, hugging one tightly she looks up at the cyber-ninja as they settle next to her, legs folded into his usual lotus position. Bumblebee and Bulkhead soon join them, dropping down onto the Autobot sized couch none of them really watching the program currently running on the massive flat screen TV.

 

Several minutes pass in silence as each of them quietly contemplate the sudden turn of events. Dental plates grinding, Bulkhead finally can’t take the heavy silence anymore or stand the heavy sense of dread hanging over the little group. “Hey Bee what was that game you were playing last solar cycle?”

 

Blinking at his large friend Bumblebee mutters. “Need for Speed 99… why?”. Seeing some of their dark mood lighten the broad green mech pressed on. Tapping a large finger against his lower jaw guard Bulkhead feigns deep thought. “Well, thing is Sari and I were playing this solar cycle and I think she got something like a 8,180 point score. Wasn’t yours 8,178?” That got the yellow mech’s attention. “More like 8,183 Bulkhead.” Sari quipped from within her pile of pillows, previously pursed lips stretched wide in a devious grin.

 

Bolting upright from his previously hunched position Bumblebee yelps, “No way! I call a rematch!” Scrambling over the seated Prowl, earning a half-sparked annoyed growl from cyber-ninja, the mini-bot snatches up the game controllers tossing the human sized one at Sari.

 

“You’re on! Prepare to have your bumper kicked!” The young human crows, bouncing around to face the large screen broad grin fixed on her face, determined glint in her dark eyes.

 

Throwing a subtle glance sideways Prowl gives a small appreciative nod to the large green mech receiving a badly covered grin in return. The green giant could be a little slow on the pick up at times and clumsy, but no one could argue that his spark was forever in the right place. Always being the first to try and lift the spirits of the others in the darker times.

 

Uncurling from his lotus position the lithe mech left the younger members of their team to their game giving Bulkhead a parting pat on the shoulder as he heads for his own quarters. Sliding the door shut and smoothly sitting down he resumes his meditative state under the sprawling tree at the centre of his room, savoring the peace and serenity offered by the organic nature.

 

A good 20 kliks pass as Prowl tries to clear his processor to no avail. The what if’s surrounding the unanswered courtship request and the message from the Elite Guard Prime driving him to distraction.

 

:: _Optimus Prime to Prowl_. :: The normally cool and collected ninja-bot nearly jumps out of his plating at the sudden transmission, barely managing to cover the physical jolt by shifting his pose. :: _Prowl here. I’m sorry if this question is getting annoying but really, are you alright Optimus?_ :: There is a long, painful pause before a weary reply.

 

:: _Honestly… no, but I will be. I’m sorry I never answered you earlier… I… I have too much on my mind to think straight right now… I’m sorry I can’t give you an answer right now and I never meant to leave you hanging like that. I really want to talk with you more about this but-_ :: Prowl swiftly cuts in before the Prime could start rambling. :: _I understand Optimus. It’s alright. Take what time you need._ :: Another long pause ensues, the dark mech beginning to wonder if the Prime had potentially fallen into recharge. The mech had looked ready to drop where he stood before he left the common room.

 

:: _Thank you for understanding Prowl… Prime out._ ::

 

* * *

 

Elsewhere, hidden deep within a mountain honeycombed with abandoned mines the same Elite Guard message plays out on a large monitor screen within a darkened cavern, the watchers bright red optics providing the only light aside from the screen. Chin resting in the palm of their hand, black fingers curled over his mouth the watcher takes in the message with great interest, but his face remains neutral.

 

Soon the message finishes playing, the face of Sentinel Prime is replaced by that of light blue, grey and black Autobot. The watcher doesn’t even flick an optic as the new Autobot stares silently at him for a moment, cyan blue optics staring coldly into smoldering red. A few seconds later the Autobots visage, shifts and breaks apart, the red circle at their forehead shifting down as the false face splits and folds away turning into a completely different mech.

 

“Lord Megatron.” Shockwave tips his helm in respect as his leader watches on. “The Elite Guard are preparing to come to Earth to investigate your presence. The Magnus himself is listed amounts the crew. What are your orders?”

 

Black hands coming to rest upon the armrests of his throne Megatron regards his spy with a cold stare. “Do nothing.” He rumbles, low voice echoing within the large cavern.

 

Single red optic widening Shockwave stutters, “But my Lord- “. A large black fist smashing down onto the arm rest stops the spy mid protest. “Monitor their activity and send me everything you learn, but do not interfere.” Leaning back in his throne the Decepticon Lord steeples his fingers, small cruel smile twitching at his thin lips. “This may be the opportunity I have been waiting for. Continue your surveillance and preparations until I contact you again.”

 

Nodding Shockwave swiftly shifts back to his Longarm Prime disguise. “Yes my Lord, as always I am your eternally loyal servant. Your word shall be done.”

 

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

It has taken 4 full solar-cycles of being under Ratchet’s watchful optics since the Elite Guard message had seen him all but disappear into his quarters for nearly 2 full solar-cycles, only allowing Ratchet entry. Following the medic’s orders to the tee for that period and showing he is now settled and no longer stressing Optimus has finally earn himself some time off base and away from the constant watchful optics of his crew.

 

The old veteran of course insisted he have an escort and was none surprised when the young Prime immediately selected Prowl. The two still had some unresolved points to discuss in private, without the chance of more interruptions. Following patiently alongside the Prime Prowl quickly recognizes the route they are taking and where it leads.

 

Detroit Central Park.

 

The only place with more open space and organic greenery than the island in Detroit Lake now dubbed Dinobot Island. It is also one of Prowl’s favorite places to go to and relax between patrols and battles or just to watch the humans and various animals inhabiting the small patch of natural earth within the confines of the concrete, glass and metal city.

 

Transforming, Prime a little slower than usual, the two walk at a casual pace towards a more secluded area of dense woods away from the main play area of the park. Their presence doesn’t go unnoticed by the humans who quickly swarm around them.

 

Children jump around their peds, squealing in delight getting to meet two of the famous Autobots in person while the adults bombard them with questions. What are you doing out here? Are the Decepticons going to attack? Where is the rest of your crew? Can I see you transform? You’re that ninja one aren’t you? So on and so forth.

 

Being not as socially adept as Optimus, the cyber-ninja let the Prime do the talking. He watches in quiet amazement as large mech quickly settles the over excited humans, satisfying their curiosity and worries before politely requesting to not be bothered unless it was important. The humans were surprisingly quick to disperse after that, going back to their own business leaving the two mech’s to settle in the far wooded area of the large park in peace.

 

Sitting under the shade of a large tree, slender legs folded into his usual lotus position Prowl feigns mediation while discreetly observing the larger mech just over an arm’s length away. His posture still retains some of the stiff tension he’d observed in recent cycles, but the once torrid energy curling from the red and blue mech’s plating has settled back to being barely noticeable.

 

Due to his training Prowl had been the most acutely aware of the Prime unconsciously projecting the emotional turmoil going on within his processor. It wasn’t unusual for a mech or femme experiencing deep emotional unrest to project through the naturally occurring thin layer of energy emitted by the spark through the plating, but only those who had trained in how to attune themselves, sense and control such energies were consciously aware of it.

 

The last few cycles the cyber-ninja has been particularly aware of the fluctuations in not only the Prime’s but the entire teams emotional states. All of them were gradually growing more agitated and anxious as the earth days ticked down. The general consensus seems to be that if the Elite Guard never arrived none of them would be the least bit worried. Though, not one of them spoke of this out loud.

 

“Um, Prowl?” Turning to face the other mech Prowl fully brightens his dimmed visor. “Sorry if I disturbed you. It’s just I’ve put this off long enough... and it’s not fair on you.” Optimus states softly doing his best to maintain optic contact with the stoic cyber-ninja.

 

Prowl simply gives a small nod. “It’s fine. You have had a lot more important things occupying your time.”

 

“Hm yeah… listen I have actually been thinking about what you asked.” Nodding the dark mech silently steels his spark for the worst possibility. Rejection. He’d felt the sting of rejection more than once in his lifecycle, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less each time.

 

“I will be honest with you Prowl. I don’t see why you would want to start a courtship with me.” Arms, folded in an unconsciously protective set around his chest, tightening Optimus looks away towards the humans at the other end of the park. He observes the adults chatting and basking in the warm sun, more intently he focuses on the small children. Happy squeals and laughter echo through the park as the fragile little organics play, chasing each other, scrambling over the play equipment and tossing brightly coloured rubbed balls around. Steeling himself, feeling the others optics heavy on him he slowly turns back to his companion.

 

“I can’t offer you anything in status, as I said before. If anything courting the likes of me may ruin what standing you have. You know the story with me and why I am where I am now, it’s no great secret and the way things are going the further you dissociate yourself from me the better. I don’t want to drag you or the others down any further than I already have.”

 

Prowl shifts slightly, fingers squeezing where they rest at his knees. _Always the first one to throw yourself into the firing line_ , Prowl mutters almost bitterly to himself _, I always thought it was just some weird glitch or ridiculous attempt at proving yourself_. The sense of resigned acceptance in the Prime’s tone leaves the cyber-ninja on edge, wanting to loudly rebuke the statement, but he holds his glossa.

 

“Then there’s the sparkling.” Optimus’ arms loosen, one hand coming to rest protectively over where the sparkling resides. “I want to know you’re not doing this out of pity or some misplaced idea that I need someone to protect me or be a surrogate sire to my sparkling.”

 

The Prime’s slanted optics thin as he examines the cyber-ninjas reaction to his words. “If this is all because you just want to help me, that’s fine, I appreciate that. But please don’t propose such a thing to me if this is only because of the sparkling.”

 

Slowly becoming self-conscious of the degree to which he has hunched, shoulders rolled forward, golden fairings raised high Prowl is quick to regain his usual refined pose. Bright cyan optics study his every move with careful scrutiny.

 

“Optimus, I did not come to this decision to make the proposal lightly and I can assure you I’ve been thinking about this since before we knew of the sparkling.” That seems to soften some of the strain in the air, Optimus’ posture visibly relaxing.

 

Shifting to close at least a small measure of the distance between them Prowl carefully lays one hand against angular red shoulder plating. A small, reflexive twitch passes through the thick metal, but the large mech makes no move to pull away. Prowl, knew like all the crew, of the Prime’s aversion to letting people close to him, let alone touching him. The fact he didn’t immediately move away encourages the dark mech.

 

“I will admit the revelation of the sparkling did prompt me to approach you sooner than I was planning,” Bright optics abruptly thin at this, blue lips pulling into a thin line. Raising one hand Prowl rushes forward. “But it is not the sole reason why I would like to pursue a courtship.” Optimus quirks a black and white optical ridge at that, helm tilting with open curiosity, hands coming to rest loosely in his lap.

 

“You have proven to be a fascinating enigma to me. When I was first assigned to your crew I honesty wasn’t ever planning on doing any more than honor the obligation I had to follow your orders… Which, I didn’t.” Prowl adds with only the barest hint of embarrassment.

 

Early on his going against the Prime’s orders, doing things the way he saw fit was his own little petty game of spite against the Elite Guard run vicariously through this impudent young Prime. He wanted to make the stuffy, academy bot crack. Make him so incensed he would throw him off the team just to gain relief from his constant cold aloofness, indifference and constant drive to undermine his leadership.

 

It had quietly infuriated him that; yes he did manage to torque off the young Prime enough to get a decent rise out of him, but never once did he ever get him angry enough to even threaten being kicked off the team. All he got was a rather mentally tried mech rattling his audios off with endless, boring lectures right out of the Elite Guard training manual.

 

The Prime’s lack of real response to his testing and constant questioning of his leadership never ceased to quietly drive him mad. His stubbornness, seeming blindness to his own situation and plain jerk-ish behavior made Optimus hard to put up with at the best of times, yet he refused to bow out without a fight. He refused to just give up and walk away, he’d make the Prime throw him off the team one way or another to prove his point about mecha like him and the Elite Guard.

 

Prowl knew of the state of affairs in the Prime’s dismissal from the Elite Guard. Pretty much everyone knew that, but not the actual circumstances that led up to it. He’d been tempted to start using that as another point to aggravate the Elite Guard drop out, but finally learning the full story had helped sway his opinion on the younger mech. Optimus finally relenting in some of his bull headed stubbornness, going from being just their appointed leader to a good friend as well, also helped.

 

“You put up so many walls, caging yourself in while doing all you could to push everyone so far away you were… difficult to tolerate at times, let alone follow your command. Your attitude was rather abrasive at the time.” The tactfully delivered statement draws a small rueful smile across pale blue derma.

 

“Hm, you mean I was a standoffish jerk who order rather than spoke.”

 

Huffing lightly Prowl crosses his arms, derma pursed. “I was trying to be tactful about it, but yes. At times I wanted to clamp my servos around your neck and shake you til your processor rattled, you frustrated me so.”

 

The blunt honesty pulls a warm bubbling laugh from Optimus, what remains of the anxiety in the air completely melting away. _This is… interesting_ , Prowl muses genuinely surprised at how quickly the younger mech is loosening up and rising from the pit of quiet brooding he’d been in for over a deca-cycle now.

 

Emboldened Prowl pushes ahead.

 

“You’re a maddeningly complex mech Optimus, and I can’t stop myself from being drawn to you, wanting to solve the puzzle that is you. Wanting to be closer to you, know more about you… much more than what could be had with just friends.” Taking a chance the dark mech every so gently slides his hand down the mech’s arm to rest his black and grey hand over a larger cerulean one.

 

Optimus’ looks away in embarrassment, frame tensing with unease. Steely, slender fingers curling around his thicker ones sharply draw his attention back to the smaller dark mech, optics blazing with conviction behind the sweeping visor.

 

“I know there is little you can offer to this courtship in status or future gains and I don’t care for there is little I can offer in return myself. All I can give is myself, my knowledge and skills and solemn promise as a cyber-ninja and Autobot to always be there when you need me and all I ask in return is you. No matter what is to come I will never turn my back on you and all I ask is for something as simple as that in return.” Prowl’s free hand rests over his spark in a show of his honesty.

 

“The sparkling… it changes nothing. I don’t care about its sire only that it is part of you and that is all that will matter. If you want to raise it entirely on your own with no input or influence from me I’ll gladly stay to the side and treat it as yours and yours alone, but I want you to know I’ll be here for you and it in any capacity you want or need.”

 

It was only a partial lie. The sparkling hadn’t changed how he felt, but he did care about its parentage despite how hard he has been trying to put it aside. The idea that Megatron’s foul essence curls within Optimus, not only tainting him but what should be a pure innocent spark yet to truly experience life, leaves a bitter twisted barb in his spark.

 

“So… Optimus Prime, do you accept my courtship?” Prowl asks softly shuffling forward a little closer, spark near quivering in its casing as Optimus stares back at him.

 

A long, pregnant pause insures as the dark mech watches the proverbial cogs tick over in the larger mech’s CPU. Eventually Optimus issues a long out vent, before dipping his helm and nodding.

 

“That… that’s something I would like too. So, yes Prowl. I accept.”

 

A wide, pleased smile slides unbidden across the cyber-ninja’s narrow face plates softening his normally sharp features. He receives a warm, if not a little shy smile in return. The warmth of relief and delight curling through his spark Prowl closes his optics, leaning forward, the golden chevron adorning his fore-plating barely touching a blue helm crest.

 

Thick blue fingers clumsily twine with thin grey as the Prime tentatively turns, shuffling a little as he tilts his helm into the gentle touch of fore-plates optics shutting off. Prowl rewards the gesture with a gentle squeeze and rubbing his thumb over blue plating as the waving ribbons of nervous, shy energies from the Prime begin to ease. They sit like this for several kliks, Optimus’ fingers fidgeting occasionally in their hold, Prowl basking in the ambient warmth and gentle flow of the unique energies of the others larger frame so near. He’d become so used to putting physical distance and the simple pleasures of sharing contact between himself and others since losing Yoketron he’d almost forgotten how nice it can feel with such simple touches. _I hope Optimus feels this as warmly and keenly as I_ , Prowl muses pushing back some of his own energies wishing to share with his new partner.

 

A slight shift of crest against chevron sends tiniest of contact sparks between them, eliciting a tiny start from the red and blue mech and a faint warm flutter through the black and gold mech’s circuits. Encouraged by the contact, Prowl gradually lifts his free hand barely brushing the tips of his fingers against the dark false glass adorning one side of Optimus’ broach chest aiming to move towards his collar.

 

The reaction is instantiations.

 

Optimus reels back violently, slapping the hand away barely missing slamming himself into the large tree trunk behind him in his haste. Stumbling forward Prowl gasps, optics flaring on causing his visor to flash bright as he catches his sudden lost balance. He stares in shock as Optimus pulls his knees up and turns away, frame almost glowing with embarrassment.

 

“Uh, um… I-I sorry. Just… w-wasn’t expecting that.” Optimus utters awkwardly, one hand rubbing at the back of his helm and neck, the other nervously petting at his lower chest plates, spark racing behind the plating in anything but excitement.

 

Waving a hand, Prowl reassures him lightening his tone with a gentle tease. “It’s alright. Perfectly fine. Just a no would suffice next time.” Watching them look everywhere else but him, a small prickle of unease settles in his spark. _That was… unexpected. Maybe I mistook the signal? Was too much too soon?_ Prowl wonders seeing them now looking awfully unsettled. Then it clicks.

 

The sparkling.

 

In his moment of contentment and loss of logical thinking he’d momentarily forgotten about it. _Stupid, stupid! How could I forget such a thing_ , Prowl hisses internally, _never touch carrying mecha where the sparkling resides without prior consent_.

 

Awkward silence pervades for almost a full cycle, neither sure what to say. Prowl is a little shocked when Optimus carefully reaches out, gently taking his hand again but does no more. He’s tempted to act on the little touch, get in closer to him again, but decides this will have to do for now. He doesn’t want to upset or push the truck-former away so soon. They continue to sit in a more tranquil quiet for another 12 cycles, enjoying the warmth of the earth’s sun, the light breeze and simply getting used to each other.

 

Looking to the sky Prowl notes the earth’s sun making its slow arch dipping towards the edge of the city the cyber-ninja makes a decision. Smoothing rising to his peds the slender mech offers a hand to the Prime. “I think it’s about time we head back to base anyway. Primus knows what Sari and Bumblebee have gotten up to since we left.”

 

Swallowing down the mortification at his own overreaction Optimus accepts the offered hand, allowing the smaller mech to help ease his stiff frame up from the now thoroughly flattened grass. Having someone that close, touching had been nice, more than nice really. That little spark, as faint as it had been had caught him off guard and actually felt quite pleasant once it passed through his circuitry. Though aside from touching helms as he’s seen others do and holding Prowl’s hand he hadn’t been sure what to do next, nervousness and indecision making him restless and dulling the moment a little for him.

 

Should he touch Prowl’s hand like they were touching his? Should he stroke his arm like he did, maybe touch his shoulder? He didn’t know what to do or how to conduct himself and a little voice in the back of his processor was quietly quailing over not doing something that might offend or be going too far too soon.

 

When Prowl’s sharp tipped fingers had touched his chest the warm haze his CPU had slipped into vanished like he’d been doused in subzero coolant and he panicked. He was so caught up in his own thinking and enjoying the simple warmth of contact the sudden touch set off his now over reactive defensive instincts, driving him to remove the threat and himself from the situation. It had taken several kliks to force his spark to stop its frantic pulsing and his defensive protocols to shut off, worried the sudden lurch would upset the sparkling.

 

So far all he felt from it was the energy it drew from his spark to sustain itself, a light barely noticeable pulling sensation to the left side of his spark chamber. He’d come to find the feeling mildly comforting, adding weight to the fact that he was indeed supporting a slowly growing new life.

 

Following Prowl’s lead back to the main road they both transformed into their alt modes, Optimus a little slower and less gracefully as the lithe cyber-ninja, before heading back to base.

 

* * *

 

Back at the base a little human girl is caught between gagging and turning away or keeping on watching out of mesmerized curiosity. The scene playing out in a delayed relay on the large screen both intrigues her and has her stomach twist in childish disgust.

 

“They looked like they were gonna kiss! Ewwww!” Sari moans loudly, hands clapping over her ears at her own words and round face scrunching up the thought of seeing her friends do that. Getting all schmoopy an exchanging spit, lubricants? Whatever, just yuck.

 

Bumblebee simply watches on unsure what to think of seeing his leader and the cyber-ninja so close and actually touching their foreheads together. Quite the intimate little gesture. Teletraan-1’s hovering surveillance camera was too high up to give decent sound, but he gets the gist of what’s going on.

 

“Wow… who would’ve thought. The boss bot and the pole-so-far-up-his-aft-he-can’t-walk-straight ninja.” Bumblebee muses aloud watching as the two sit ill at ease after Prowl did something that seems to make the Prime momentarily flip out.

 

Never, ever, EVER in a million vorns would he have seen it coming, let along believe anyone who said it was even possible. He’d thought something was up with Prowl suddenly hanging around Optimus a lot and actually talking nicely to him and getting a bit touchy, but never this.

 

Heavy metal creaks as Bulkhead shuffles forward, leaning his hefty frame closer to the screen. He’d protested spying on their Leader and the ninja, but watching the scene unfold he’d quickly changed his opinion. “I actually think it’s kinda sweet.” He sighs wistfully, optics glistening as he watches the two bots as they seem to settle into a comfortable stillness.

 

Sari simply gapes at her two friends. _This_ _isn’t sweet, it’s gross! Totally, totally GROSS! They were all googley eyed and touchy feely and, and, just yuck._ “So you guys are ok with this?” She asks skeptically, brow furrowed, shoulders hunched displaying her uneasiness.

 

Both bots nod, very much surprised but also quite happy with the idea. Seeing her friends so seemingly happy with the turn of events the little human’s mind starts to wander. “Sooo… are they like, boyfriends or something now?” Sari asks, waving a dark hand in a vague gesture.

 

“Uuuh… boyfriends? What’s boyfriends?” Bulkhead asks large optics brimming with confusion.

 

Sari rolls her eyes in exasperation. She’s NOT going to explain that one, they can figure it out for themselves… did ‘boyfriend’ even apply since Ratchet said there were no real girls and boys in their kind. She isn’t sure.

 

Flapping a hand dismissively at the big green mech she mutters. “Never mind.” Glancing back at the screen she notes how the two now look more at ease, if distant.

 

It’s so weird, but the Autobots seem so much happier than she’s seen in weeks. Shoving down her disgust an idea starts to form in her mind. If having Optimus and Prowl together makes everyone happy, then she’s going make sure they stay together even if a little extra intervention is needed to ‘bump’ things along.

 

The little human is about to share her idea with the two bots when a loud, bellowing shout makes them all near jump out of their skin and plating respectfully.

 

“What in Primus’ name are you lot doing? Have you little pit-spawns rewired Teletraan-1’s sky-cam?” The medic growls upon spying the relay video of Optimus and Prowl playing out on the huge screen.

 

Panicking the yellow mini-bot throws himself across the main keyboard sending the terminal into a squealing frenzy of alerts and errors as he jabs and smashes at the buttons forcing the screen to flicker out in a flurry of static.

 

“Ummm… no?” The yellow bot offers lamely.

 

Growling low in his chest, Ratchet jabs an accusatory finger at two young bots. “You had better have that console back to rights before Prime gets back or so help me I will weld you two to the nearest wall and you,” Here the medic turns on the little girl trying and failing to sneak from the room. “You’re going to help them.”

 

Reaching into his subspace the red and white mech pulls out a small pair of insulated gloves tossing them to the little girl, motioning for her to put them on and get to work. _I knew I would find a used for those one day_ , Ratchet grins self-indulgently.

 

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

“Why are we doing this again?” The yellow bot asks the red head sitting on his shoulder. “Cause it’s been nearly 2 weeks and they’ve hardly looked at each other. They should be at least holding hands, going on dates and stuff by now. That’s what they do on TV!” Sari huffs, growing tired of explaining herself over and over again.

 

Leaning over his two friends watching the dark cyber-ninja sitting at the monitoring station, Bulkhead laces his large, flat digits together. “Yeah… but shouldn’t we just leave them alone to work it out at their own pace?” Adding more somberly the large mech shifts his weight, optics dimming. “Maybe they, you know, decided they don’t want a courtship after all.”

 

A determined glint flashes in the little girls dark eyes as she looks up at the hulking figure of her friend. “They do. I know they do.” She states, planting little fists against her hips with a little self-assured nod.

 

“And you know that how?” Bumblebee presses, still dubious about his little human friends plan.

 

Without skipping a beat Sari grins proudly at the yellow mech. “Women’s intuition Bee.”

 

Flicking his optics Bumblebee stares at Sari dumbfounded. “Women’s intuition? What’s that?” Waving away the question Sari says primly, “A very complicated human female thing Bee, you guys wouldn’t get it. It’s like way beyond you.” It doesn’t matter the girl herself doesn’t know what it means, as far as she is concerned it’s an easy way of stopping her friends questioning her plan.

 

“Uh… ok. So I just go in a tell Prowl Optimus wants to talk to him in his room right?” Sari nods, beckoning Bulkhead to take her from the yellow speedsters shoulder. “Yep, that’s it. Once he’s in there we pin the door shut from the outside and don’t let them out until they kiss and make up.”

 

“But they haven’t had an argument… at least I don’t think they have. Isn’t that what ‘kiss and make up’ implies? And Optimus is supposed to be resting…” Bulkhead adds softly only to have the little red head turn a sharp glare on him daring him to keep talking. “Sorry.”

 

The dark coloured cyber-ninja barely moves aside from his slim digits languidly tapping away at the control keys when Bumblebee suddenly appears at his side. The slightest shift of his helm in the mini-bots direction is the only acknowledgement of his appearance. “Hey Prowl. Optimus just asked me to tell you he wants to see you in his quarters.”

 

That gets a response. Fingers stopping mid motion, Prowl slowly turns to scrutinize his always overly energetic teammate. “Why didn’t he just comm. me if he wants to speak to me.” The cyber-ninja asks suspicion laced heavily through his vocals.

 

“Cause… I ah… I was just walking past and he asked me to ask you to go see him so I can take your place on the monitor until you get back.” _Yeah that sounds good_ , the yellow mech reasons to himself giving his sometimes scarily intense teammate a wide confident, and hopefully winning, grin.

 

Eyeing the other a few seconds longer Prowl closes his report and finally stands fluidly from his post staring down the younger mech. “I won’t be gone long so don’t think you can wander off.” Nodding vigorously Bumblebee grins even harder. “Sure thing Prowl no problems.”

 

Nodding in greeting to the two occupants of the cobbled together concrete slab couch, Prowl strides through to the living quarters. Sari is doing her best to stay still and smile politely, though to the cyber-ninja she looks more ready to bolt at a moments notice and Bulkhead shyly waving back. If he had been suspicious before he is now certain the 3 are planning something. Whatever they are up to he can deal with after speaking with the Prime.

 

Finding the door to Optimus’ quarters shut Prowl raps his knuckles against the metal, the sound echoing faintly within the small space. Several kliks tick by before there is the sound of movement and the door is finally slides open.

 

Looking up at Optimus, Prowl is a little taken a back by how dim the mechs normally luminescent optics are. “Uh… Prowl did you need something?” Optimus asks in a quiet, puzzled tone.

 

“Yes, Bumblebee told me you wanted to speak to me. Are you alright?” Optimus stares down at the smaller mech, confusion playing clearly across his pale blue features. A cobalt hand comes up to rub at the base of one audial finial as the Prime tries to get his recharge addled cortex to respond.

 

“Uh, yeah fine just… I don’t remember asking-“ The words cut off into a startled gasp as the lithe cyber-ninja abruptly slams into him throwing his equilibrium gyros off kilter. Stumbling from the force the Prime instinctively grabs onto the body shoved into his dragging them down with him as he topples back to land on his aft with a solid, jarring thud.

 

He barely notices the loud clatter of the door to his quarters being abruptly slammed and something being pushed against it jamming it shut. He does however notice the pile of dark mech sprawled in his lap. Scuttling back into a defensive crouch Prowl’s bright visor briefly meets Optimus’ optics before he dart away to the door a low, angry growl rattling within his chest.

 

Strong spindly fingers dig and scrape trying to gain leverage on the edge of the door, but they soon give up with a frustrated hiss when none can be found. Seething the cyber-ninja yells through he door, “Bulkhead, I know that was you. What where you thinking! You made me knock Optimus over! You shoved me so hard I could have hurt him you glitch-head!” In truth both know Optimus is far sturdier built than that, but with him currently in a rather delicate state with the sparkling any hard jolt had the potential to upset his systems.

 

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” Bulkhead whimpered mournfully. “I didn’t mean to push so hard! Sari made me do it.”, “Did not!”

 

“Yes you did, you said… oh never mind. Is… is Optimus ok?” The big green mech asks worriedly.

 

“I’m fine Bulkhead, but would you mind moving whatever you are using to jam the door. Prowl is still on duty.” _And Ratchet will have my aft if I don’t stick to his recharge schedule_ , he moans to himself. Getting up, Optimus rubs at his lower back the dull ache quickly fading from the impact with the floor.

 

“Um… it’s… kinda -” The groaning of straining metal accompanied the brief screech of something scrapping against the door. “- stuck. Sorry boss bot.” Optimus could swear he could hear the big mech rubbing the back of his helm in embarrassment.

 

Taking the two steps back to his berth Optimus drops down rubbing at his stiff neck. “Look Bulkhead just comm. Ratchet, ask him to cut his patrol short and come in to use his magnets and cutting tools to clear the door. When he arrives you and Bumblebee can take his shift for the remainder of the cycle.” A distinct squawk of protest filters through the door. “Yes Bumblebee, I know you were in on this too. Now, get moving before I make it 2 solar-cycles.”

 

“Yes boss bot… sorry again. Sari is too, aren’t you Sari.” It’s clearly not a question. Prowl can almost see the scowl the little girl must be wearing being snitched on. “Yes. Sorry Optimus, sorry Prowl.”

 

“Oh, and Sari?”, “Yeeees?” He can hear the strain in the girl’s voice. She knows she’s in for it too.

 

“No more TV or games for you for the rest of the solar-cycle for your part in this. I expect you to be doing your homework in your room by the time Ratchet gets back. If not, no games, TV or rides with anyone for the next 2 solar-cycles. Understand.”

 

There’s a long pause before a grumpy affirmative filters through the door before he hears them all move off.

 

Scrubbing at his face plates in frustration Prowl turns to the Prime noticing the tired sag of his broad shoulders, elbows resting on his thighs and helm cradled in his hands. Without asking the lithe mech gracefully climbs onto the berth, moving to sit behind Optimus with his knees on either side of narrow blue hips.

 

The fact the large mech doesn’t fully tense or twist away when sharp finger tips begin tracing along his back plates attests to how comfortable he has become with the smaller mech. Nimble digits immediately get to work finding the new sources of blocked energy and knotted cabling as the always edgy Prime melts under the attentions.

 

Some time ticks by before Optimus breaks the comfortable silence. “They know.”

 

“Oh really?” Prowl asks, helm tilted and vocals heavy with sarcasm. “I hadn’t noticed.”

 

Snorting a short laugh the Prime pats a tan thigh resting against his own. A small smile glides across thin grey derma as that cobalt hand remains resting comfortably just above his knee joint, stroking ever so lightly. Warmth trickles up the fine sensory wires within the light armor his spark pulsing happily at the spontaneous touch.

 

It’s nice to have his partner initiate contact without prompting. Prowl had hoped to have gotten well past the stage of nervous, plutonic touches and getting to know you idle chatter by now, but whenever he strayed from comforting contact trying to prompt them into something more intimate the red and blue mech still froze up with clear confusion and indecision.

 

Thankfully he is a patient mech and willing to wait until Optimus gets things straight in his own cortex. Between the Elite Guard coming, the sparkling and their limited time together he is happy with what little physical contact he’s had with them, plutonic as it has been. Nothing has been said, but the cyber-ninja silently suspects the mech’s last relationship, however far it had progressed, must not have ended well to leave him so wary. Quietly he suspected it may have been with one or both of the mecha that had been involved in the infamous ‘incident’.

 

“That doesn’t bother you?” Optimus asks, turning his helm to quirk an optic ridge in question at his partner.

 

Digits continue to delicately work to diffuse, transfer and manipulate the unique living energies as the cyber-ninja’s answer comes surprisingly easy. “No not at all. The fact they pulled such a ridiculous prank to get us together shows they approve.”

 

Changing the pattern of movements drawing the energies into proper flow, he adds. “They seem to forget I have very good hearing. It appears they mistakenly believed we have had some kind of argument and thusly have been avoiding each other.” Optimus smiles in amusement at that.

 

True they hadn’t been any different around one another in public, but they both value privacy and have their way of getting time together. Prowl having a wide open sky light in his quarters and Optimus a window high up near the roof just the right size for a highly flexible, slender bot to squeeze through allowed for easy, discreet meetings.

 

“That appears to have been the catalyst for this prank, but did they really have to resort to shoving me through the door and blocking it?” Prowl asks rather snippily ducking his helm to hide his shame at being caught off guard by one of the loudest moving Autobots on the team.

 

Barking another short laugh Optimus pats the tan thigh plating under his hand. “Sari never does anything by halves once her mind is set and pit knows Bulkhead and Bumblebee can never say no to her.” Hunching over a little more blue fingers rub circles around red plates.

 

The little sparking is having one of its very recently developed bouts of pulsing at odd intervals out of sync with his spark. The effect creates doubled over waves of spark energy interrupting the normal rhythm of his systems.

 

Shutting off his optics he quietly tries to pacify the sparklings rapid fire pulsations. _Please little one, settle down, please… I don’t want to purge in front of Prowl_ , he silently pleads as the discomfort begins to rise towards full blown nausea, the mixed signals throwing his systems regularity off kilter processing tanks threatening to reverse, cables and hydraulics jerking faintly. He hasn’t purged since he was a youngling and he doesn’t plan on doing it again any time soon.

 

Noticing the Prime’s discomfort, Prowl shifts until his back plates meet the wall encouraging his partner to lie against him. To his surprise Optimus doesn’t even put up a token resistance to the move simply slumping back, free hand coming up to rub at his optics.

 

“Do you want me to comm. Ratchet and tell him to hurry up?” Prowl asks worriedly as their once calmed energy field turns torrid enough to start disturbing his own. He can all but taste the sickness roiling through the Prime.

 

Shaking his helm in the negative the red and blue mech drops his hand back to his lap, long out-vent of heated air issuing from flared black side vents. “No, just someone’s decided to make them self-known… changing pulse rates now and again going out of sync from mine…Ratchet said it’s normal and will stop… in about an orbital-cycle… or two.”

 

Nodding in acceptance, that little barb within the cyber-ninja’s spark twitches at the idea of that evil mech’s spawn causing his partner so much discomfort. He logically knows it is wholly blameless, simply behaving as developing sparklings do, but just the knowledge of where almost half its energy signature and codes came from still leaves him feeling cold.

 

Viciously beating down the less than pleasant lines of thought beginning to curl through his cortex Prowl vehemently repeats that no matter what this sparkling is of Optimus’ spark. It is as pure and innocent as any new life with nothing predetermined by its code heritage. Reminding himself of that he feels that icy barb soften, spark responding with fondness to the warmth and weight of the other mech resting against him.

 

Glancing down he finds his partner as become very still. “Optimus?” Monitoring the ebb and flow of their energies and the slow, even ventilation cycles it quickly becomes obvious his partner has slipped into recharge. _For the best I guess_ , Prowl murmurs to himself, _I’ve never been around a carrying mech or femme like this before, but I’ve heard it can be taxing at times_.

 

For a brief klik the cyber-ninja considers moving himself to allow the Prime room to lie down and rest properly. Then again this is the greatest progress they have made in the courting so far. It’s not really recharging together, but its close enough for now. Gently running one hand very carefully over his partner’s helm he decides maybe Sari’s childish little prank is a small blessing in disguise.

 

Almost a full cycle later Prowl is shaken from his semi-meditative state by loud yelling and the harsh screech of metal grinding against metal. Before he has a chance to move from under his partner’s much heavier frame the door slides open and Ratchet strides in angrily tearing strips off their other team members for the prank.

 

The racket stirs the Prime from his recharge processor slow to boot and frame feeling less than refreshed. Turning to the source of the noise he quickly goes stiff with embarrassment, lagging processor screaming into high gear.

 

Ratchet stares at the two, arms crossed and one optic ridge raised. “Made yourself quite comfortable there I see.”

 

A muffled giggle draws the cyber-ninja and Prime’s attention past the medic. The massive form of a sheepish looking Bulkhead is leaning through the open doorway, under his arm is Bumblebee and at their feet is Sari. All three are staring, gawking really. The hulking green mech’s optics glowing with warmth, the yellow mini-bot grinning so wide it looked like his face plates might split while the little girl has her hands clapped tightly over her mouth trying and failing to contain the laughter bubbling up inside.

 

Both mechs are quick to untangle themselves and move to opposite ends of the berth, Optimus unsure of when or how he’d ended up with Prowl’s lithe arms and legs wrapped so securely around his chest and hips. Spark fluttering in mortification at the implications of how it must look he suddenly finds a patch of sunlight on the floor _very_ fascinating.

 

“You should see the look on your face Prowl! You look like you’re gonna to pop a gasket or something!” Sari blurts out between bouts of laughter. “Optimus and Prowl sitting in a tree k.i.s.s.i.n.g! First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Prowl with a baby carriage!” She sung delighting in the horribly pinched look on the dark mech’s face plates and the way his golden shoulder fairings hike up like an angry cat’s fur.

 

Soon the raucous laughter of the yellow speedster joins the little girls, the sound reverberating in tiny space. Glancing over at his large partner, seeing them rubbing their fingers between their optics pointedly looking anywhere but him, the pinched look on the cyber-ninja’s features rapidly turns out right murderous. He really does not appreciate being teased and laughed at, especially if that teasing is directed at his partner as well.

 

“I believe you three are on punishment detail for your little prank, correct?” Prowl states coldly, pointed staring down Bumblebee and Sari. The two giggle-pots quickly go silent at the realization.

 

Grinning nastily, Ratchet turns on the trio. “That’s right, Prime pinged me with your punishments. The rest of my duties for your two lunk heads and homework and no TV for the little missy.”

 

Bumblebee and Sari’s faces immediately drop, horror overtaking them as they are reminded of the Prime’s orders. They’d been quietly hoping he’d forget given his currently preoccupied state, trust Prowl to remember.

 

Bulkhead is smart enough to bolt for it straight away before being told any more, but Bumblebee and Sari pause a moment. “Get moving! You to your room and you, get after Bulkhead, NOW!” Ratchet barks sending the last two offenders scampering off. Growling Ratchet pointedly watches them go, _I don’t need this juvenile slag with these cross wired younglings, I’m no nanny bot… that’s Optimus job_.

 

“You too Prowl. Pranks over. Even with those two dim-bulbs taking my shift I’ve still got inventory to finish for when the Elite Guard get here so you’re needed back on the monitors.” The elder grumbles pointing a red finger towards the open door. Growling softly in annoyance Prowl slides from the berth throwing a last long look at Optimus he just manages to catch the Prime’s optics between splayed fingers.

 

The red and blue mech manages a soft smile for Prowl before Ratchet grabs his attention starting a series of minor scans. Prowl gives them a soft smile in return as he departs. It had been nice cuddled up like that while it had lasted, even if his partner had spent the majority of the time in recharge.

 

The dark lithe mech stalks through the hall as soft childish snickering faintly echos in the open room with the monitoring station. Taking his seat and resuming his earlier duties at the monitors he quietly simmers in both humiliation and irritation. Prowl never took well to being embarrassed or caught off guard… ever.

 

He has nothing against Bulkhead. Despite obviously helping in the prank the big mech meant no ill and would more than likely be falling over himself to apologize by the time his punishment patrol was done. The other two however… Those two will spend weeks on end reminding Optimus and himself of the little moment caught together and take great, unapologetic glee in their humiliation.

 

Switching from one display to another, sharp processor ticking over what had been said and what he knew of the two pranksters a small pleased smirk soon curls at the edges of the dark mech’s derma. As the humans say one good prank always deserves another.

 

* * *

 

Optimus Prime has to work hard not to show any mirth when he spots Bumblebee stalking stiffly through the main living area making his way to the supply stores. The young mini-bot mutters low in his vocals as he pulls out a small can of oil all the while scratching and picking at his armor.

 

The little mech’s normally shiny, meticulously maintained black and vibrant yellow armor is coated in a layer of sickly lime green house paint thanks to doctored wash rack pipes. Bumblebee had initially gotten a laugh out of it after a screaming tirade about the paint, but that quickly faded when he asked Ratchet for something to remove it. Apparently some additives in the paint meant that the speedster would be wearing his new ‘paint job’ for at least another 2 solar-cycles since Ratchet was in no hurry to find the correct chemical balance to remove it without stripping off his colour nanites.

 

Large, sullen blue optics briefly turn to the Prime before Bumblebee skulks off to sit on the couch, slowly sipping at the oil while flicking through channels on the huge wide screen TV. Optimus softly sighs, scrolling further down the data pad in his hand. The young bot had spent the best part of the last solar-cycle and a half after the prank spouting innuendo laden comments and questioning the Prime and cyber-ninja about what exactly they had been doing while stuck in his quarters.

 

No amount of threats of extra patrols or monitor duty or even the rather ‘wise’ council of Bulkhead telling him to cut it out seemed to dissuade the young mech. That was until someone decided a return prank was in order this morning.

 

Of course Optimus knew who was responsible for it.

 

The cyber-ninja hadn’t even tried to deny his responsibility for the prank. He actually rather happily owned up to it when the mini-bot came screaming out of the wash racks howling about his ruined armor. Prowl humbly accepted the doubling of his patrols for the next 4 solar-cycles as punishment, quite content in the fact he had taught Bumblebee a fundamental point about pranking and teasing others in such a crude manner.

 

There will always be payback.

 

Flicking to another section of reports his concentration is interrupted by the loud stomps of Sari marching into the main living area. Long burgundy red hair usually tied into pig tails now stands out at all angles in a giant wiry puff of red as if the girl has grabbed an exposed electrical wire. This was curtesy of a few hours with Bulkhead having to wash and re-wash her hair to remove blue dye added into the cleansing liquid she called shampoo in her own private wash rack. Another point of payback from Prowl.

 

The little girl takes one long took at the seated Prime before walking over and wrapping her tiny arms around his ankle. Little muffled sniffles and the sensation of something wet against his plates prompts the large mech to carefully stoop and scoop the little girl into his hand. Bringing her to rest against the heat of his chest he carefully brushes a large thumb against her back.

 

“I’m sorry for what I did. I won’t do anything like that ever, ever again. Promise” The red and blue mech chuckles softly at that. More like she’s sorry because she just had a taste of what it was like to be on the receiving end of a prank.

 

Though her teasing hadn’t been innuendo heavy like the mini-bot she had still insisted on singing that awful little song over and over when she saw either of the pair. It had annoyed and frustrated Prowl to no end and made Optimus very much aware of the sparkling he carried and who it _did not_ belong to. He was sure the girl wasn’t trying to be malicious, but it hadn’t eased the sting of the jibes any less.

 

“I forgive you Sari, but you still need to apologize to Prowl as well. In the meantime, have you learned your lesson?” Scrubbing at her face she nods. “Yeah… don’t prank Prowl cause he pranks back and Bulkhead can out do you in lecturing.”

 

The girl looks up at him with her usual impish grin, eyes still a little wet. “I guess that will be good enough, though you have to understand, Sari. It may have seemed funny to you, but the things Bumblebee said and that song you sang were quite hurtful to us, to me, ok? Would you like it if someone said things like that about you and the person you like?”

 

Nose wrinkling she presses the side of her face to his chest, skinny arms stretching out across false glass as far as they can reach. “But boys are icky and smelly and stupid and-and… no.... It was mean, and I’m sorry.” Hands beginning to feel across his heated plates she murmurs. “Is the sparkling coming soon?”

 

“No Sari, it’s going to be a while yet. Once they’re here I’m sure they’ll want to be your friend and would love playing with you.” Giggling she moves around in her usual hunt for signs of the sparkling. “Yeah!” She raps her knuckles against red metal. “You hear that in there. I can teach you how to play video games and basket ball and we can have races and go to the park and go swimming, though you might sink so have to stay in the shallow end and -“

 

Optimus lets her ramble on in her excitement as he goes back to checking through his reports and those of his team. Only 16 solar-cycles left before the Elite Guard arrive. The chances are high that once they are here Sari may never see his sparkling. If he’s not arrested on the spot and accused of treason there is the good chance he will be order him back to Cybertron until decisions are made about his fate and that of his sparkling. He was trying to remain optimistic for himself and his team, he really was, but knowing the laws meant that every solar-cycle that ticked away a little more of that optimism crumbled.

 

Shunting that thought far, far back in his processor he focuses on the here and now. Bringing up Bumblebee’s reports he can’t help the small exasperated roll of his optics. He doubts that the Elite Guard will be able to properly follow half what is written in Bumblebee’s report filled with so many English terms, abbreviations and earthen slag words with no Cybertronian equivalent. He needs to have a word with the yellow mech about the importance of proper language in such vitally important reports that will be deciding their immediate future.

 

Optimus is about to ask Bumblebee about his report when a distinct alarm goes off at the monitoring station. Flicking up a read out on the main screen he quickly opens all comm. channels.

 

:: Optimus Prime to all team members. Teletran-1 has picked up a new Allspark shard signal. I’m routing the coordinates now. Bulkhead and Ratchet you’re currently the closest so head to the location and wait for the rest of us before you make a move. ::

 

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Sliding back to run alongside the red fire truck Bumblebee guns his engine, “Come on Boss bot! We gotta get there before the Cons do!”

 

It takes a lot of self-control for the Prime not to snap at the young mech. The strong temptation is there to tell him very unkindly to shut his overrun vocal processor, after almost 23 cycles of non-stop griping about his lack of ‘proper’ speed and missing any supposed action, but he manages to hold it in. Barely… _at least he’s stopped sulking about his new ‘paint job’_ Optimus sighs quietly.

 

“Bumblebee as I’ve already said many times, if there was any Decepticon activity one of the team would already have commed us. Besides there are speed limitations on human roadways and we have agreed to follow those rules for their safety and ours.” Optimus reasons in vexation knowing full well it is falling on deaf audios.

 

“But we’ll miss out on all the fun!” The yellow speedster whines, the high pitched sound grating on the Prime’s already raw nerves. “It’s not fair. Ratchet and Bulkhead could be having all the fun. Why did I have to wait for you anyway? You're so slow! I’d already be there if-“ That does it, though before the red and blue mech has a chance to let loose on the younger mech Sari jumps in.

 

Leaning out an open window in the Prime’s cab she waves a fist at the yellow car. “Geeze Bee would you quit with the whining! Optimus’ already grumpy and I’ve been trying to cheer him up by telling him all the awesome places we can take the sparkling and all I’m hearing is you bellyaching like a big spoilt baby!”

 

That causes the yellow mech to swerve for a second, barely maintaining pace with the larger truck. He’d been prepared for the yelling to come from Optimus, not Sari.

 

“What?! I am not a spoilt baby! You’re the baby…. Uh, what’s a baby again?”, “You are, you big yellow, whiney baby!” And the childish argument devolves from there into bouts of 'are too, are not' and harmless name calling and teasing leaving the Prime rolling his, currently hidden, primary optics. He is still frustrated with the young mech, but mildly thankful for the change in direction and target of his griping.

 

The Prime does his best to shut out the bickering in favor of contacting the rest of the team. :: _Optimus Prime to Ratchet. Any signs the Decepticons have picked up on the signal?_ ::

 

:: _Ratchet to Prime. No Con activity though we’re all going to need to sort out a grid search pattern. Place is the damn maze from the pit itself. My scans of the area show we might have more than one shard on our hands, but I can’t be sure._ :: Ratchet grouses in his usual gruff tone.

 

:: _Ok we’re only 12 cycles away, we’ll sort everything out once Bumblebee and I get there. Optimus out._ ::

 

* * *

 

Meeting up with the rest of the team at Detroit’s largest scrap yard Optimus is thankful to finally be there to say the least.

 

Sari and Bumblebee’s loud, childish arguing has been easy enough to tune out after a short while in favor of going over the site maps 'borrowed' from the local city planning archives to assess the layout of the scrap yard and plan out a search grid. What has been not so easy to ignore was the constant uncomfortable cramps of too many parts crammed into almost too small a space of his alt-mode. Of all things, that was what had begun to wear the heaviest on his already raw nerves. Finally being back in bipedal mode, able to stretch out cramped linkages, joints and cabling is a welcome relief drawing a soft, releaved sigh from the Prime.

 

Finding the others a search pattern is quickly established. Spreading out in a line across the width of the scrap yard all 5 mechs begin walking through the stacks of scrap metal of various kinds, scans running in as wide a range as each can manage in hopes the shard or potential multiple shards can be found as quickly as possible. All know the longer the shard is giving off a noticeable signal the higher the chance the Decepticons will appear.

 

Wedging his large bulk through a gap in stacks of car shells taller than himself, Bulkhead scans around the new open area he finds himself in. Large towers of metal crushed into neat squares surround great pieces of automated scrap processing equipment leading into a large open warehouse. Eyeing up the enormous compacting machine near the entrance a little apprehensive chill runs through the big mech’s circuits.

 

A faint glint catches his attention inside the warehouse atop what he presumes is a furnace. Edging closer his scans ping back positive for an Allspark shard a second signal alighting on his HUD as well less than 20 meters away outside the warehouse.

 

Almost giddy with excitement and glee at actually being first to find the fragments without incident Bulkhead nearly trips over himself in his rush to collect the first shard. :: _Guys, guys! I found the Allspark shards! Two of them!_ ::

 

:: _That’s good, Bulkhead. Share your coordinates and hold position until we get there._ :: Optimus comm.s back.

 

Following the order the big green mech shares his coordinates, but in his excitement he ignores the simple stand and wait order. Running up to the first fragment he has to lean over the open mouth of the furnace, long arm reaching and flat fingers straining to get a good grasp on the shard. He just barely gets the tips of his fingers to grasp the top of the shard when a sudden explosion at his feet send the green mech toppling head over peds.

 

:: _DECEPTICONS!_ :: Blasts through the comms curtesy of Bumblebee as Bulkhead rolls himself over, dust filling the air as he clasps the shard close to his chest.

 

“I’ll be taking that now, Autobot.” Bulkhead’s optics widen as the dirt settles to reveal Lugnut stalking towards him, weapons at the read. “Ah scrap.” The green mech mumbles, scrambling to get his peds under him and weapon primed.

 

Everything completely fell apart and devolve into utter chaos from there.

 

Blitzwing fired in rage upon Bumblebee and Prowl as they kept the triple-changer on his ped tips tag teaming the crazy mech driving him to rapidly shift faces as he went from bellowing in fury to giggling insanely. Elsewhere, Bulkhead was wrestling with Lugnut doing all he could to prevent the hulking Decepticon from taking him down and stealing the shard he had stored away.

 

Sari shrieks as she darts behind another stack of half flattened cars, Allspark shard clutched tightly in her little hands to her heaving chest having stolen it back from a distracted Blitzwing. A heavy clash of metal on metal rang loudly through the air, followed by sharp cry and a ground shaking thud. The girl was sorely tempted to look around from her hiding spot, check to see if her friend was ok, but fear and determination to be brave and keep the shard safe kept her rooted to the spot.

 

Heavy, quaking stomps drove Sari to clutch the shard tighter and crouching lower to the ground, taking some comfort from the warmth and gentle buzz coming from it as the distinct sound of heavy ped falls methodically moved towards her hiding space. Each step shaking the earth under her feet heavier, small stones and rocks bouncing more and more.

 

“Don’t think you can hide from me, filthy little organic.” Megatron growled, red optics scanning his surrounds ignoring the other battles going on nearby. He would not be shown up and denied what was his by some puny little organic sparkling.

 

“You couldn’t find your own nose if it bit you!” The tiny, high pitched voice echoed through the huge scrapyard, bouncing off multiple walls of crushed metal. To another organic creature it would have been near impossible to pin point the girl’s location, but he wasn’t organic.

 

A ping on his HUD pulls a nasty grin across the Decepticon Lord’s harsh features. Cannon powering up with its distinct hum, he takes a large leap forward and spins around the corner of a pile of scrapped cars targeting system locking in on the tiny organic 3 rows away, crouched on the ground.

 

“Found you, little insect.” The tiny organic barely near leaps out of its flimsy skin at the sight of him and his cannon trained upon it, other hand reaching out. “Now, give me what is mine.”

 

Swallowing down a scream, Sari began backing away with the shard clutched tightly in her shaking hands. “N-no. It’s not y-yours.”

 

“Wrong answer, fleshling.” Sari tried, but failed to not cower and close her eyes as the weapon came to bare on her, end of the barrel glowing an angry white-red.

 

“Sari, RUN! Hide!”

 

The girl jumped and dived into a nearby open trunk just as the weapon discharged with its distinct, thundering boom. The shot goes high and wide, clipping Blitzwing’s wing sending the con flailing out of control. Spinning on the one responsible for throwing off the shot, Megatron deflects the next strike from the energon axe, twisting the weapon away and kicking his opponent in the abdomen sending them skidding backwards into another stack of cars sending the lot toppling over with loud screeching and thunderous crash of twisted metal.

 

The Prime barely has time to begin recovering before a large black hand slams down on his chest pushing him back into the mess of scrapped cars, his back flaring in sharp pain. He had not chance to utter a cry of pain before the same hand clamps around his neck, with a vice like grip.

 

Cyan blue optics bored into ruby red as Megatron moved over his captive, pushing him harder into the pile of twisted metal just to feel them struggle and hear the metal groan. “Call your little pet, Autobot. Tell it to give me the shard and I may let you walk away from this relatively intact.”

 

Struggling in the tightening grip around his neck, Optimus’ blunt digits claw at the large hand while he kicks at the broad waist and chest with all his strength. A small, frightened voice somewhere in the back of his processor quietly whispers, ‘ _Give up. Stop fighting, you know you can’t win. Call to her! Give him what he wants. He’ll tear you apart like temp plating if you don’t give him the shard. He will kill your sparkling. Rip it from your body as he snuffs your spark out-_ ‘ He viciously stomps out the voice, focusing on keeping Sari safe and denying the vicious mech what he wants.

 

Gritting his denta, Optimus hissed back, “No. I’ll nev-”

 

A sudden, sharp blow to the abdomen stuns the young mech, optics blowing wide in shock from the sudden strike and explosion of burning pain that erupts through his chest and back. He must have blanked for a second, because next he distinctly hears Sari crying out, “-‘urt him! Don’t hurt Optimus! I’ll give you the shard!”

 

A sharp grin spreads across the War Lords derma as he turned towards the little girl. ”Good little pet. Now, come out and give me the shard. I won’t hurt you and I’ll let your Autobot friend go.” Megatron purred, placing a hand over Prime’s face while raising his cannon preparing to fire. “I promise.”

 

Flailing, scrabbling at the hand over his mouth Optimus took the only option he had. Twisting a little he viciously bites down into the softer plating between thumb and fore finger with all the power he could muster. Megatron howls in pain and rage as he rips his bleeding hand from the Prime’s sharp edged denta.

 

“NO, Sari! Stay there! He’s ly-“ He barely gets the words out before he is brutally slammed back into the mass of twisted metal, his whole body screaming in pain, audials buzzing with static and optics assaulted with fuzzy black and white spots. Slowly coming back to himself, pain dulling slightly and vision clearing Optimus finds the barrel of Megatron’s massive cannon taking up most of his vision, a large hand pressing harshly down on his chest. Bright red optics flash dangerously as the grey mech stares down on him.

 

“You, little Autobot, are proving to be more of a nuisance and a greater pain in my side than I initially gave you credit for. I had patience for your spirited fight and stubbornness once, but no longer.”

 

The hand on his chest presses down harder, crushing pain growing as the metal groans increasingly louder and sharper under the relentless pressure, grabbing and pushing at the heavy limb proves useless. The weapon at the Prime’s head fills his audials with its distinct powering whine as the barrel grows unbearably hot and bright. He shut his optics, vents stall, limbs shiver and his spark pulses franticly like a caged animal in its casing as he prepares for the end. ‘ _I’m sorry my little one. I’m so sorry you will have to end here before you knew me, before you knew life. I-I… I love you and… I’m sorry I’ve failed you_.’ And then… nothing.

 

The crushing pressure on his chest eases and the heat and sound of the cannon recede. Ever so carefully opening his optics Optimus finds the Decepticon Leader staring down at his chest with a look of confusion, large hand now resting far more gently on the aching metal of his chest. He’s almost too afraid to move, let alone vent the stifling hot air from within his sore frame lest the mad mech simply crush his chest in and tear his spark out.

 

A small eternity seems to pass before the huge grey mech speaks, his voice low and gravelly. “What is this?”

 

Optimus can only blink dumbly up at the grey and black mech. “W-what?”

 

“What is this?” Megatron barks, startling the young mech. “Why can I sense my energies in you? In here? What are you hiding, Autobot? What have you stolen of me?”

 

Absolute terror sweeps through the Prime’s cortex and CPU driving his frame to seize up and spark to hammer madly within its casing, _‘No, no no nono! He can’t know! He can’t! I-I’ve got to move. I need to run now!’_

 

“ANSWER M-!” The loud, furious bellow is cut short by the loud ring of heavy metal smashing into metal and Megatron suddenly stumbling sideways with a grunt of pain. The slip causes the grey mech’s hand to lift and Optimus wastes no time. Rolling aside he dives for his axe, quickly throwing himself to his feet weapon in hand ready to fend off another attack… that never comes.

 

Growling low in his throat the Decepticon Lord is turned away staring down Team Prime as Bulkhead rapidly reels in his recently flung wrecking ball fist. Each member stands in aggressive poses with weapons at the ready, Sari at Bumblebee’s peds triumphantly holding both Allspark shards with a large grin across her face. A quick glance past a stack of cars shows Blitzwing dangling from a crane, badly tangled up in the heavy cords, hissing and spiting various threats and curses as a stumbling, scratched up Lugnut tries to get him down without being shot by the insane mech.

 

Snorting loudly in disgust, Megatron’s helm snaps to the Prime, serrated denta bared. Lifting a hand to reach towards the red and blue mech earns the War Lord a sharp warning from Prowl, “Touch him and I will slicing open your vital lines.” The slender grey and black mech suddenly fazing into view on the hulking mech’s back, one of his throwing stars digging into the softer metal at the juncture of jaw and neck.

 

Huffing in amusement, Megatron drops his hand his flaming red optics never leave the young mech’s cyan blue silently conveying; _I’m not done with you yet Autobot_. “Decepticons, we are done here. Return to base.”

 

Roughly shrugging the ninja-bot off Megatron takes to the air, followed soon after by Lugnut and - a still spewing profanities - Blitzwing. Optimus watches warily as their forms moved off through the clear sky until even his strong vision could no longer detect them. He is so focused he initially doesn’t notice how hard he’s been gripping the pole of his axe until tender hands start to gently pry his stiff fingers from the handle and a soft voice talking to him.

 

“It’s ok now Optimus, he’s gone. You can let go. Relax and try and vent for me.” Prowl’s soothing tone and gentle touch helps to start easing the tension from his frame, vents bursting open with a gush of steam and over heated air. Sucking in huge draughts of cool air Optimus finally looks down into the softly glowing visor of the cyber-ninja earning a small crocked smile.

 

Another pair of hands gently hold him as his shuddering legs finally gave out, carefully lowering him to sit on the dusty ground. It’s now he becomes pointedly aware of just how hard he is shaking, how uncomfortably hot his frame is and just how much every inch of him is throbbing with the deep ache of excessive strain. Especially deep within his chest. Panicking Optimus turns his focus inward, ignoring the voices, sounds and touches as he seeks out that now familiar faint little draw. That little continuous tug on his spark from his sparkling.

 

At first he can’t feel anything outside the noise of his own frantic spark, still pulsing much too fast. He pushes deeper, focuses harder until finally, finally he gets a tiny blip of a response. With each nano-klik the sensation of that syphoning pull on his spark grows in pulsing flickers, feeling almost as though the tiny sparkling is testing for safety, before finally settling back to the level of pressure he has become so used to.

 

“…ack to base.” Optics flickering, remembering he isn’t alone, Optimus glanced to the mech speaking, Ratchet. “Oh, good to see you’re back with us Prime. You gave us a good scare for a moment there.” Waving his portable scanner one last time over his patient before sitting back to go over the results.

 

Pressing a hand firmly against his chest, he shook his head. “Uh, I’m… I’m sorry, I just -”

 

“Boss bot! You ok? Is the sparkling ok? We thought bucket-head was gonna crush you! But we chased him and his cronies off, did you see it? It was awesome! Oh, you need anything? Anything at all I’ll go get it right now, just say the word!” Startling, Optimus finds himself with a face full of yellow and black youngling rambling on asking after his comfort while recounting the battle he shared with the others against Blitzwing and Lugnut.

 

Already too tired and sore to and frankly in no mood to deal with the younger mech’s usual bright, speedy and exuberant personality the Prime closes his optics rubs the bridge between his optics ready to tell the yellow mech to tone it down and leave him be. His vocalizer barely has time to activate before another steps in.

 

“Bumblebee! Calm down and go wait for Bulkhead and let us know when he gets back. Ratchet and I can watch Optimus for now.” Prowl’s calm, yet assertive tones quickly silence Bumblebee, taking off with one last passing request if the Prime needed anything before he bolted to avoid the random piece of scrap Ratchet tosses at him along with a bark to get going.

 

Optimus gives his partner a watery, yet grateful, smile earning a soft little quirk of thin derma and warm flicker of visor in return. His mere presence helped ease most of the stress from his frame and settle his galloping spark, though he couldn’t do much for his racing CPU and the implications still running rampant from Megatron’s words.

 

“I know Megatron attacked you to get the shards, but there’s something more. Something else happened. I can tell.” Prowl observes, gently stroking the red and blue mech’s thick arm as he vented heavily and tried to school his CPU. “You don’t have to speak of it right now if you do-”

 

“Yes, yes I do.” Optimus blurted, taking a shaky in and out vent. Glancing from the worried visor of his partner to the pressing stare from the elder medic. “I think… I’m not sure, but I think Megatron may know. About the sparkling, or-or at least suspects something.”

 

Metal screeched and groaned within the medic’s hand as he muttered, “Well, slag it all.”

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all chapters completed up to now. I've got the next in the works and some other fics going as well I'll soon be posting on here.


	10. AUTHOR UPDATE (not a chapter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an update on the delay and what's going on.
> 
> This will be deleted and replaced with a chapter soon hopefully.

Basically my laptop threw a massive hissy fit with my profile out of no where a few weeks back. Still have no idea what caused it and we couldn't fix it so that required the nuke option.

Now here's where the problem comes in. The day it threw its fit over my profile was the day I was doing a back up to our new PC. I thought the back up had worked and after a few days of trial and error to fix my profile it was decided to just nuke it and restart. Unfortunately I'd find out too late only OLD copies of my files had made the transfer before things went nuts. All the newer files either didn't make it or were complete gibberish and the nuking of my profile meant EVERYTHING I'd had there was deleted... so yeah not a happy chappy. Thankfully I still know where I was at and what I was doing and can just copy down what I have here, but yeah... not fun.

On top of that I've been really unwell of late. My old problems coming back full force killing my energy. So once again my updates are going to be horribly sporadic until I get to see a specialist in August.

So, sorry about the delays. I hope to be back on track soon.


End file.
